


Wayfarer

by PeaceHeather



Series: Odin's Son, Tyr's Son [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Mythic Journey, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sigyn being badass in her own way, Thanos does not exist in this 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: Loki has been missing for nearly ten years, and has been declared dead by Odin. All Asgard mourns... except for Sigyn, who knows something isn't right. AnAvengersAU, told mainly from the Aesir point of view.





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Everywhere Sigyn went, she felt it, the fundamental _wrongness_ that made her bones and her throat ache, and her eyes burn.

It was in the steady rain that had been falling for the past month, ceasing only when Thor slept; in the hushed voices, and the faces of those Sigyn passed.

It was in the empty boat that the All-Father had set alight yesterday evening, in Loki's memory.

It was in the orbs that the people had released, in the way they had glowed gently as they drifted up into the sky but formed no new constellation at all.

There was no star Sigyn could point to and say, "There is Loki's spirit." She felt that even if there had been, a single star would have been too limiting for the one she had loved, the one who could walk the skies themselves.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Everything was wrong, all wrong, and Sigyn couldn't shake that feeling no matter how she tried.

"It is your grief," said Frigga. "I know you cared for him very deeply. You feel lost without him."

Sigyn said nothing, only bowed her head, but in her heart she disagreed. Hadn't she been without Loki for ten years now, before the others decided he wasn't coming home? She had missed him, of course she had, but she had had faith that he would return as he always did, with new tales and gifts and new ways to love her. He was supposed to return to her arms and tell her that he knew he was home only after he had seen her face and felt her kiss.

Instead, he was gone, never to return. Or so everyone had decided.

* * *

 

"It's worrisome, that's all," Loki said, shifting in bed and pulling her close. "It might be nothing, or it might be something, and I don't know which yet."

"And it has to be you who goes to find out," guessed Sigyn. "Because you don't have it in you to leave a secret undiscovered, or a rumor untested."

Loki chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. "Something like that. If it weren't for the Convergence…"

"But the Convergence isn't for another fifteen years."

"Yes, but it only comes around every five thousand," Loki pointed out. "It only makes sense that as we approach it, certain energies might begin to stir. The Tesseract has already been active once on Midgard, and very nearly awakened by those foolish mortals who had possession of it. That was only about fifty years ago."

"And you think these rumors about the other Infinity Stones have merit?"

Loki sighed. "I won't know until I do some digging," he said. "But I don't think it's a coincidence that we're beginning to hear whispers now, after all this time. The Tesseract may well be in the process of awakening, and from my reading on the subject, where one Stone goes, the others have a tendency to follow. It's why they've been kept separate for so long."

"Won't they be hard to find?" asked Sigyn, looking up at him. "Since they're separated?"

"I don't really want to find them," said Loki, "I just want to make sure that no one else is trying to find them, either. This hint that someone out there wants to reunite the Stones… that's too serious for me to ignore, even if it is only a rumor."

Sigyn lifted up and rolled until she was lying on top of him. "And you, my shadow-walker, are the only one for the job of hunting down the rumors."

"Well, yes," said Loki simply, then laughed as she reached down and poked his ribs.

They kissed for a few moments, simply enjoying one another's company, before she asked, "How long will you be gone?"

Loki dropped his head back on the pillow. "I don't know. Hopefully no more than a year or two, but…" He shrugged. "I can at least dream walk to speak to Mimir or Frigga. Pass along messages, keep in touch."

"I'd like that. I wish I had the power to dream walk too."

"Ah, but then," he said, kissing her nose, "you and I would never accomplish anything, waking or sleeping."

Sigyn giggled, and slid lower along her lover's body.

* * *

For the first year, Loki was as good as his word. He kept in touch via Frigga and Mimir both, and they informed her that he was also keeping contact with some of his friends on Alfheim as well as other worlds.

But then his messages grew more sporadic, less cheerful. He had caught the scent of a rumor and was hunting it with all his power, which Sigyn knew was formidable when it was focused on something that he thought was important. He didn't have time to communicate much, he said. It was implied that he didn't have time to sleep on a regular schedule, that he wasn't safe.

And then the messages stopped entirely.

"It's possible that he has gone underground, so to speak," explained Tyr. "You've seen him do this before, when he was on the hunt."

And indeed, Sigyn had. There was one time when he uncovered a treasonous plot to overthrow Alfheim's queen, and had vanished entirely for over a year, before returning with a diplomatic envoy to Asgard, disguised as an elf maiden. He'd uncovered an impostor who wanted to claim the throne for herself and her faction, then revealed the true queen in exile and restored order to an entire world… and that was only one of the gaudier of his successful missions.

Since coming into his power, Loki had become Odin's "shadow prince" in truth, the dagger in the dark where other attempts to solve problems failed. Few in Asgard knew that he was anything other than a wandering scholar, and some disliked him for it. Behind that facade, however, not even General Tyr could say how many wars Loki had averted, on how many realms.

So Sigyn waited, as did Frigga and Tyr, and Mimir, and all of Loki's friends and household; waited and worried and trusted that Loki would return to them eventually, safe and sound.

Seven years after his last message, Mimir and Frigga both woke up from a sound sleep claiming that they had heard Loki screaming. Nothing else; no message. "Only the scream of a man in mortal agony," said Mimir. He looked decades older that morning. "I fear him lost."

"Lost? He needs help," said Frigga, in conference with them. Sigyn was at Vingólf, along with Tyr and Mimir, and she listened while they spoke with the queen and Heimdall.

"Help which we cannot give, since we have no idea where he is."

"Even I cannot see him," said Heimdall. "I have caught glimpses, from time to time, but nothing recently."

"Then he is beyond our reach," said Tyr, shaking his head wearily. He rubbed hard at his forehead and sighed.

"You ask me to do nothing while my son suffers!"

"I ask nothing at all, my queen, and you know it," Tyr replied. "I state the simple fact: without knowing where he is and what danger he faces, there is no aid we can send him."

"And even if we knew," said Mimir, "if he was in mortal agony as he seemed, it… may well be too late for him. It is possible that this message, this dreamwalk, was a last desperate sending from his unconscious mind, before he…" Mimir trailed off and looked away.

"Do not say it," said Frigga.

"I agree with the queen," said Tyr, flexing his silver hand. "I will not accept that Loki is dead until we have proof."

But two more years went by, with no word from Loki, nor any rumor of where he might have gone. The last reliable word had seen him on Dvergarheim, but according to Tyr that trail was cold and had been for some time. Wherever Loki had gone, he had not informed anyone of his plans, and now there was no trace of him to be found anywhere within the Nine Realms.

* * *

At the end of those two years, Odin, with bowed head and weary countenance, declared true what they all had feared. Loki was lost, and presumed dead. He would be given the honors due a warrior who had fallen in foreign territory, and whose body could not be recovered.

All Asgard mourned… except for Sigyn, who could not accept that Loki's death was real, or true. She ached, but she did not mourn. Her eyes and throat burned, and everything around her felt deeply wrong, but she refused to call her feelings grief.

Odin presided over the official memorial service, but with no body, the entire spectacle felt like mere theater to Sigyn. She stood stoic, neither weeping nor speaking, while tears slid down Thor's cheeks and Fandral stood beside her trembling. Sif was blinking rapidly, fighting back tears in an attempt to appear stoic, while Frigga, for perhaps the only time in her life, let fall her public mask and hid her face in her hands before turning to Odin to hold her up.

Tyr fired the first arrow into the empty boat.

* * *

At the funeral feast, Sigyn was led to a seat at the high table, which she had not expected.

"I know you and Loki had not married," explained Frigga, "but I also know he intended to ask you, once you both were of age not to require the consent of your parents."

"I understand," said Sigyn, feeling the stab of pain in her heart. Frigga had dominion over marriages throughout Asgard, and was making it clear to all who watched that as far as she was concerned, Sigyn was Loki's wife in fact as well as intent.

Or rather, that Sigyn was Loki's widow, now. With that status, no one would pressure her to forsake his memory and marry another. It was a subtle gift, and one that Sigyn had not thought to hope for.

"My parents would not have opposed our marriage," she said.

"I believe he wanted it to be clear that your union was entirely your choice and not merely that of your mother or father," said Frigga with a sad smile.

Sigyn shook her head and smiled in response. "Any who knows us should realize that I am with Loki entirely of my own will and desire."

"Yes, you were." Frigga's smile was still in place, but a bit brittle now, as she blinked back tears.

"Forgive me, my queen, but I believe I still am."

When Frigga did not respond, she dropped a low curtsey, backed away three steps, and took her seat beside Thor.

The feast was excruciating. Endless. The toasts to Loki's memory were all well and good, but it was clear that most of the people there were barely even acquainted with him, and were only present so that they could be publicly seen showing the proper respect to a prince of Asgard. More were there because there was food and drink in plenty, as befit a man of Loki's social status. Time went on, and people left, some of them clearly uncaring now that they had put in their appearance. Those who stayed got progressively less sober and more raucous.

 _Loki would hate this,_ thought Sigyn. She looked around, and caught the expressions of the few people Loki had called close friends, and saw that they all looked as miserable as she felt.

She took a deep breath, and leaned over to where Thor was unhappily pushing food around on his plate. "Meet me at Vingólf tomorrow at sunset," she said quietly.

Thor blinked and looked up at her in confusion. "Why?"

"So that we can say farewell to Loki as he would have wanted. All of this," she gestured out at the boiling crowd, "would only have annoyed him."

"You mean to hold a second feast?"

"Nothing so grand," said Sigyn. "Just… a proper farewell."

"Will General Tyr allow such a thing?"

"I haven't asked him yet, but I don't see any reason why he wouldn't."

Thor thought for a second, then nodded slowly, frowning at her. "I suppose my brother _would_ like—would have _liked_ —a quieter gathering," he said, biting his lip when it began to quiver.

"He would, if he were here, yes," said Sigyn. She wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder in comfort, but he was crown prince and such things were not done. Instead, she pushed back from the table and stood, curtseyed to him as was proper, then went down the the table to where the general sat.

It only took a moment to gain Tyr's blessing for the smaller gathering. After that, she moved through the room, largely unnoticed by the revelers, and spread the word to Loki's friends. Those she could find promised to tell those who had already left for the evening.

The fresh air outside was cool on her face as she made her way home.

* * *

The gathering at Vingólf was much calmer than the official funeral feast the night before. Only the household staff and about a dozen others were present, and they gathered in the dining hall with subdued voices to remember their friend, student, ward.

Not that there wasn't laughter to be heard. "Remember that time he switched everyone's purses during the royal feast?" asked one.

"Which time?" answered another. "I know of at least three times he pulled that trick."

"Once was during my name-day feast!" exclaimed Thor, and everyone around him chuckled.

"I remember when Loki heard Lord Wulfric boasting that his home was an impenetrable fortress," said Sif. "So while Wulfric was busy sucking up to the All-Father, Loki broke in to prove him wrong."

"What did he steal as proof?" asked Fandral.

"Nothing. But he rearranged all of Wulfric's furniture, and hung all the tapestries in new locations too."

Appreciative laughter spread through the crowd, and drinking horns were raised in salute.

"What do you remember, Aelif?"

"The shapeshifting," said Aelif, a scruffy-looking man with reddish hair.

Groans all around. "By the ancestors, _the shapeshifting_."

"Remember the elf maiden?"

"Pssh. Remember the flock of magpies?"

"Oh stars, they stole shiny things and I _swear_ they shat everywhere _on purpose_."

Someone said, "Loki swore not," but that was met only with more groans and laughter.

"Loki _always_ swore he had nothing to do with the crazy things that happened around him."

"Like the dire wolf?"

"That thing was only a wolf in shape! In size it was closer to a bilgesnipe, I have _no idea_ where he found it."

"He named it Fenrir. Fen-dweller. Do wolves even live in swamps?"

"I'm surprised he didn't name it Fluffy."

Thor laughed, though his eyes were wet. "To Fluffy!"

"Aye, to Fluffy." Horns were raised again.

"And to Loki, who tamed him, though the ancestors alone know how he did it."

The laughter died down for a bit, at that. "Aye," said someone. "To Loki."

"To my student," said Mimir.

"And mine," put in a woman named Geirny, and a soldier named Frodi.

"To my friend," said Fandral. Several voices echoed that one.

"To," Thor began, then stopped to compose himself. "To my brother."

"To my son," said Tyr hoarsely. "The Norns named him my son."

"Frigga named him my husband," said Sigyn quietly, and silence fell.

Aelif scratched his head. "It… it seems wrong not to offer congratulations, my lady, and yet…"

Sigyn shook her head. "It's all right. I still do not believe he is truly dead. Only lost. And I have hope that he will be found, and return to us once more." The silence grew heavy and awkward, and Sigyn grimaced. "I should not have said anything. You are all here to mourn him, and it seems as though I am chiding you for it."

Tyr sighed, turning his drinking horn around in his hands. "It is well to hope, Lady Sigyn, and no one can deny that you have been faithful to Loki's memory… but there is a proper time to mourn."

"I know that," said Sigyn simply. "It is only that, like you, I refuse to believe he is dead without proof."

"But there is no proof to be had," said Fandral. He shut his eyes and took a shaky breath. "Would that it were not so."

"No one has seen him in ten years," said Olief.

Sigyn's lips thinned in annoyance. "Ten years is as nothing to an Aesir," she said. "I will keep faith that Loki will return, until I myself die of old age."

"There is no proof that he is dead," said Thor, "but neither is there proof he is alive. And he has been gone for too long."

"Not too long for me," said Sigyn.

"Do you accuse me of giving up on my brother?" growled Thor.

Sigyn did not answer, and voices rose, in defense of both Sigyn and Thor.

"Enough of this," said Tyr finally. "We are here to honor Loki. Or his memory, whichever we believe. It gives him no respect to argue among ourselves."

"Of course," said Sigyn. "And if nothing else, we are guests in your hall."

"You are right, General," said Thor. "For my part, I apologize."

Sigyn did not, but no one scolded her for it.

* * *

The feast continued, stories told and memories shared, and it was late indeed when the party finally broke up; the last guests either left or went to Vingólf's guest wing to spend the night.

Thor took Sigyn aside. "Do you really think Loki still lives?" he demanded, with a sort of desperate longing in his eyes.

"I do," said Sigyn.

"Even without proof?"

"I would travel to the gates of Hel itself to gain that proof, if it would quiet the doubters," she replied, and made her way upstairs to Loki's rooms before Thor could answer her.

She hesitated before touching the door. She had come here once or twice while Loki was missing, before he had been declared dead, but now it seemed strange to do so. Still, now that Frigga had declared her to be Loki's wife, she had certain rights, and those included the right to his belongings and his dwelling, as if they were her own. Even without that right, certainly Tyr had never minded having her as his guest over the centuries… not even after she and Loki had made love for the first time, and shattered every window in the palace. She smiled to herself at the memory, and the ache in her chest subsided for just a moment.

With a deep breath, Sigyn touched the door, and felt the wards part for her as they always did.

Wouldn't the wards have fallen, if Loki were truly dead? Didn't a seidmadr's magic fade after their death?

The receiving room was full of Loki's belongings; comfortable chairs were gathered near the hearth for conversations with friends, and a larger bench that the two of them reserved for snuggling by the fire together. A warm blanket from Alfheim was draped over the back of the bench, and an Aesir tapestry adorned one wall, next to a battered map of Midgard. Weapons were mounted on another wall, and shelves held a variety of mementos, collected from his travels across the realms.

Sigyn stepped through to Loki's study, which was even  more cluttered; the servants of Vingólf knew better than to disturb anything in here, which might be magical or dangerous, or simply ridiculously fragile. She stepped up to a delicate machine from Midgard that hung on the wall, and watched it move. It was supposed to mark the passage of time; it was shaped like a little hut with runes carved in a circle on its front. At the top, near the roof of the hut, was a tiny door out of which a carved bird would emerge at regular intervals. At the bottom, a pendulum swung before a series of weights, ticking away endlessly in the silence thanks to Loki's magic.

Shouldn't the machine have stopped?

Below it, on Loki's desk, a chunk of Muspelheim opal glowed, as though living flame were trapped inside the rock. Sigyn traced her fingers across its surface, as she had done countless times before. The general wore a brooch set with stones that had been chipped from this larger piece. Loki had offered to turn the rest of it into a necklace for her, but Sigyn found that she liked the raw beauty of the stone better.

There were maps on the worktable, and books stacked haphazardly. Writing implements and a whetstone sat on the desk, and bookshelves lined every wall, filled with books and keepsakes and magical paraphernalia.

The room, ten years empty, still looked as though Loki had only just stepped out and would return at any moment.

Sigyn looked around, and felt the same pang in her chest that she had at the palace, when Frigga had named her Loki's wife. The same burn in her eyes. Her lip quivered, and she took a deep breath to regain her composure.

Loki's bedroom was much tidier, thanks to the servants; Sigyn opened his wardrobe and found several of her own articles of clothing hanging there. Some were for when she spent the night, while others were things she had loaned him for when he decided to be a woman for a time. The clothes included a light shift that both she and Loki had slept in before.

Sigyn undressed and changed into it, then pulled back the blankets on Loki's bed. She climbed in, feeling dwarfed among the covers without Loki's body tangled next to her. She rested her head on her pillow, then clutched his close and tucked her nose into its softness.

She inhaled deeply, but Loki's scent was long gone.

* * *

_I would travel to the gates of Hel itself to gain that proof, if it would quiet the doubters._

Sigyn tossed and turned, unable to sleep for more than a few moments at a time.

_…travel to the gates of Hel…_

Could she do such a thing? Was it even possible?

Loki was known as the Sky-Walker. He could have gone to Hel. Sigyn rolled over, tangling the blankets about her legs. She didn't have that ability. No one did.

_…the gates of Hel…_

Sleipnir did. Sleipnir had taught Loki how to do it in the first place, and had carried Fandral and Sif once to help rescue Tyr from Vanaheim.

Maybe Sleipnir could carry Sigyn.

Maybe she could ride to Hel… or wherever else Loki had gone.

_I would travel to the gates of Hel itself to gain that proof, if it would quiet the doubters._

Maybe she could find proof that Loki was truly dead. Or proof that he was alive.

Maybe she could find Loki himself, and bring him home.

Sigyn lay awake through the rest of the night, contemplating the possibilities.

* * *

When the birds began to sing, but the first rays of the sun had not yet seeped through the drawn curtains, Sigyn threw the covers aside and sat up.

She had a lover to find.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn begins her journey, and is given a gift.

The first thing Sigyn did, despite her wishes, was _not_ to saddle Sleipnir and disappear. As much as she wanted to do exactly that, she knew it would be necessary to prepare for her journey first. Loki had taken her between the realms before, but she had nowhere near the magical power he did, and she would need to protect herself as best she could without him.

At least she had enough seidr to be able to see the paths themselves, even if she could not travel them without help. Sif had told her once about her first experience on the paths, and it had sounded terrifying. The silence was unnerving enough; to have a complete lack of sight as well?

"It wasn't even darkness," Sif had explained to her. "It was the absence of everything, including darkness, if that makes any sense. There was _nothing_. I was looking upon nothingness."

Sigyn, however, could see the paths, and had traveled them a few times, with Loki by her side. Together they had seen a few of the creatures that dwelled in the void between the realms, beings of incredible beauty as well as horror. For the most part, such creatures, alien as they were, avoided the branches of Yggdrasil, but sometimes something brought them near, whether it was curiosity or hunger or some nameless alien impulse beyond understanding. Sigyn had no way to know whether she would be safer or more vulnerable without Loki's powerful seidr beside her, whether his power had warded them off or drawn them in.

So she used a minor spell to alter the fit of some of Loki's traveling clothes, and then availed herself of his work supplies to craft several magical amulets. They were only hearth magic, which wasn't much compared to Loki's sorcery, but every little bit would help. One by one, Sigyn tucked the finished amulets about her person; amulets of safe travel, amulets of luck, amulets of protection, amulets to make her less noticeable and to sharpen her aim. Some were carved into little disks of wood or bone; others were made of bundled bits of herbs or other ingredients, while others still were painted directly onto her skin. Loki had told her once that a well-crafted amulet could turn the tide of war, or make the difference between a warrior's or birthing mother's life or death. Sigyn might be no sorcerer, but she was quite skilled with hearth magic, and she intended to bring every advantage with her that she possibly could.

Finally she crafted her last two amulets; one to attract love, and one to aid in seeking and finding lost things. She opened the lacings on her shirt and tucked those snugly within her breast bindings, over her heart. Their shapes bit into her skin a little, but Sigyn found the sensation reassuring.

Hunger broke through her concentration, and she looked up to realize it was already midmorning. If she had been any other guest, the servants should have been ready to wake her by now, politely chivvy her out of her room, and send her on her way. Sigyn actually wondered for a moment why they hadn't come to disturb her, before she remembered that, officially, she was Loki's wife, and these were as much her chambers as his now.

Well. Loki's widow, according to those who believed him dead.

"And we didn't even have a wedding," she murmured, caressing the chunk of opal on his desk. "I'll not accept your funeral without a wedding first, my dear one."

So the servants hadn't come to wake her yet, but nevertheless, Sigyn didn't have much time before she would be sought out. Dressed for travel as she was, it would take no time at all for word to reach General Tyr, or Mimir, or the queen, and they one and all would try to dissuade her from her task. It would be best if she were not seen before she departed, and that meant she needed to hurry now.

Quickly, Sigyn pulled a bag from Loki's wardrobe, and a specific book from his shelves: a hand-crafted collection of his maps of the branches of Yggdrasil, probably the only one of its kind anywhere in the universe. She tucked the book into the bag and slung it over her shoulder; then, with a whispered word, she activated each of the amulets she'd crafted, and felt them grow warm in response to her seidr. She touched the amulet for going unnoticed as she left Loki's chamber, hidden up one sleeve, and smiled to herself as she made her way undisturbed to the kitchens.

* * *

"Sleipnir… here, Sleipnir. That's it. You're a good boy. Come to me, Sleipnir."

The great blue roan lifted his head, curious, and approached, his eight hooves surprisingly quiet as he moved.

"Good boy, Sleipnir. That's it. Would you like an apple?"

Sleipnir followed her obediently into the stable, where she clipped a lead onto his halter and looked around for the tack room. Saddling horses was not exactly her area of expertise, but she'd done it before and could manage, if a bit slowly. And if not, well, she'd ridden bareback before, and Sleipnir had the smoothest gait of any horse in the Nine Realms.

Her luck held, and she was able to prepare the horse for their journey without trouble or interruption. She finished fastening the saddlebags she'd packed, and mounted up just as she heard voices approaching from the opposite entrance.

Sigyn let Sleipnir pick his way to the lower pasture, where Loki had first learned how to walk the paths between the realms… and where he'd trained the great stallion to take passengers with him.

"We're going to find Loki, Sleipnir," she whispered, taking a shaky breath as his ears swiveled to catch her words. "Are you ready?"

The horse snorted, which may or may not have been an answer. Sigyn was never sure just how smart he really was.

She guided him to one end of the pasture and turned him toward the trees. With another deep breath, she tightened her legs around Sleipnir's massive body, leaned forward, and quietly called, "Go!"

Sleipnir charged across the green, his hooves pounding almost as loudly as Sigyn's heart as they ran full tilt at the trees on the other side of the pasture. Just as she and Loki had done before, right as she was convinced that they were going to crash into the trees and be killed, Sleipnir used his own magic, and they leaped out of the world and onto the branches of Yggdrasil.

* * *

It was the silence that unnerved Sigyn, every time; that, and the fact that there was no turning back on the paths. Once a route was begun, Loki had explained, the only way out of the space between the worlds was forward. He couldn't explain why, when she'd asked, but he'd proven it true to his satisfaction countless times.

But for now, it was the silence that bothered her most. Sleipnir's hooves made no sound… and neither did Sigyn's heart. Nor her breathing, nor anything else. There was no creak of saddle, nor jingle of harness. They ran forward like ghosts, but there was no wind on Sigyn's face or in her ears; only the _feel_ of Sleipnir's gallop convinced Sigyn that they were not simply floating over nothingness. The sky surrounded her in all directions, including below her, and it was dark and watchful. Vast clouds glowed faintly in strange colors, billowing in constant motion, so that it was dizzying to look too long in any direction but the path itself.

Sigyn sat back in the saddle, cueing Sleipnir to slow, and studied the path before her. Frequently traveled by both Loki and Sleipnir, it was riddled with glowing green marks, like scuffs of Yggdrasil's bark to reveal the tender tree beneath. Sigyn hoped that the less-traveled paths would bear the same tracks. She might be able to find Loki where no one else could, simply by following his footprints to wherever he lay hidden.

This branch, she knew, led to Vanaheim; the odds of finding Loki there were almost nonexistent, so Sigyn turned Sleipnir's head away and chose another path. She could only hope that she was making the correct choice, but there was no room for indecision here between the realms. There was only the choice, and then forward, always forward.

* * *

She came out on Alfheim, to sudden cold that fogged her breath and millions of stars overhead. The breeze hissing through the grass seemed unnaturally loud after the incredible silence between the realms, and Sigyn found herself reaching up to touch her ears unconsciously.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" she asked shakily. The horse made no reply, other than to stretch his neck and pull at the grass around him, which reached up to his knees.

"You are a long way from home," said someone, and Sigyn twisted in the saddle to see an elf stepping out from the cover of a lone tree. Around them, the grass continued, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell how far.

"I apologize if I am trespassing," said Sigyn, but the elf only waved his or her hand easily.

"I had forgotten that you Aesir do not see as well by starlight as we do. Great is my luck, Sigyn. It is Miiran of Cor Caan."

Sigyn hopped down immediately and moved to embrace the other woman. "Miiran. Great is my luck. Were you expecting me?"

"Loki's teacher, Mimir, sent us a message, saying only that you were seen riding Sleipnir away from your home. I wondered if you might come here for solace," said the shaman.

"Not quite solace," said Sigyn. "I do not believe Loki is dead."

Miiran took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a great plume of fog rising from her lips in the night air. "He has been gone long, compared to his usual journeys," she said.

"I know."

"In my dreams, about two years ago, I heard him screaming. I tried to go to his aid but could not find his mind, even then."

"There were others who heard him around then, too," said Sigyn. "They believed that Loki might be… might be dying." She swallowed with a throat gone suddenly tight with the grief she refused to acknowledge.

"It is possible," said Miiran, and Sigyn turned her face away. "But I did not feel death in his sending," the shaman added. "Only pain, and despair."

Sigyn turned back, and studied the other woman's face, but in the dim light her expression was impossible to read. "Do you think he lives?" she asked.

"I cannot say," said Miiran. "I have tried to reach him, many times since that last sending. There has been no trail to follow."

"I think there may be a trail on the paths of Yggdrasil, as Loki calls them. I mean to follow them, and see if I might find him."

Miiran considered that for a long moment; the breeze stirred the feather ornament in her hair and the tops of the tall grass around them. "Come with me," she said finally.

Sigyn did not question, only led Sleipnir through the grass behind the shaman. Miiran wasn't the sort to provide answers that she thought were obvious, so it was pointless to ask where they were going or how long it would take to get there.

It was only a few minutes, however, before they arrived in the elf encampment. Two or three fires still burned low, with elves sleeping around them under tents or under the stars, wrapped in colorful woven blankets. Miiran led Sigyn unerringly to a pile of cushions set back a ways from the other tents, with only a canopy and no walls covering them. A single lamp allowed Sigyn to make out the shapes of baskets and blankets in among the cushions, and the fringe of the canopy brushed along her forehead as she ducked beneath its edge.

"If the camp were not asleep, we would offer you better hospitality," said Miiran. She had dropped to her knees, and now her back was turned, as she seemed to rummage for something among the baskets.

"That's not necessary," began Sigyn, but again the other woman held up a hand.

"I am aware. You wish to be on your way as quickly as you might, and I will not delay you. I only brought you here because I have something that may aid you in your search. Or it may not. But it should do no harm, in any case."

Sigyn frowned. "What is it?"

"A gift that Loki once gave to me, and which I now give to you," said Miiran. She stood and turned, and in her hand lay something that glowed green in the night. "When he lived with us and we healed him, in gratitude he gave us a piece of his seidr, contained in this crystal. He said that if we ever had need, we could use it to call upon him." She reached for Sigyn's hand and placed the crystal in her palm. "It may be that you could use it to find him, though I know not how it would work on the paths. They are a strange place, to be sure."

The green lit Sigyn's fingers like sunlight through spring leaves, and the crystal itself felt warm to her touch. "Thank you, Miiran. My luck was great to find you this night."

"The stars shine upon the hour of our meeting," said Miiran formally, and Sigyn inclined her head. The saying was as much greeting as it was farewell, in the elven culture.

"May we share the same stars again before too much time has passed," she replied.

Miiran smiled, her teeth flashing in the dark. "Go swiftly," she said. "Return safely. May your gods and ancestors watch over you on your journey, and may you find what you seek."

"Thank you, Miiran." Sigyn climbed back into Sleipnir's saddle, and walked him quietly out of the encampment, the crystal clutched tight in her hand.

* * *

Fortunately, the horse was able to find a way onto the branches of Yggdrasil from almost anywhere, and the path near Miiran's people was traveled frequently enough that it was still scuffed with hoof marks, or footprints, or whatever they were. Remnants of Loki's or Sleipnir's magic, perhaps.

Sigyn held out the crystal on the flat of her palm and lifted it up to eye level. It glowed cheerfully in the darkness of the paths, like a single star in a clouded night. "Can you show me Loki?" she tried to ask, but the silence of the paths stole her voice. So she _thought_ at it, instead, but nothing seemed to happen except that the glow might have swirled a little inside the crystal. Or it might have just been her imagination.

Sigyn sighed, and tucked the crystal into a pouch on her belt. It was something of Loki's and she would keep it, but for now it didn't appear to have any use.

She rode on, ever forward, following the marks whenever she came to a fork in the paths. There was neither cold nor warmth between the realms, no breeze to stir the clouds despite the way they moved, and so far Sigyn had not felt hungry or thirsty. It would be difficult to tell the passage of time, if she stayed here for very long.

She looked behind her exactly once, thinking to see whether Sleipnir was leaving fresh marks on the path, and promptly spun back to face forward, eyes wide and heart thumping silently in her chest.

There was nothing there. Or rather, there was nothingness. Void. The clouds, even the darkness itself, were swallowed up by an absence that Sigyn's mind could not comprehend save as blankness, nor look upon without terror reaching straight into her hindbrain. A fear of falling, of being eaten, being unmade—all the ancient, childhood fears that still dwelled behind adult rationalizations.

This was what Sif had seen, and tried to describe to her.

Loki had warned her about this phenomenon, and she had foolishly forgotten. It would do no good to try to outrun the nothing, for between the realms, in the space between space, strictly speaking _nothing_ was all that existed. The paths themselves were what was unusual about the place, not the void. Somehow Sleipnir and Loki were able to find and use the paths, but they shouldn't really exist, which was probably why Heimdall could not see them, and no one else could ever use them.

Sigyn shivered, thinking of what might happen if she were to slip from the saddle or try to dismount.

* * *

The path this time brought them out on a planet Sigyn didn't recognize. The sky was clear and the air warm, and twin suns were just rising above the horizon. Sigyn thought she might be near Vanaheim, but couldn't be certain. There was no one nearby, only sand that led down to a gray shoreline some hundred paces away, peppered with dark boulders here and there. There was nothing for Sleipnir to eat, and Sigyn had no interest in exploring the water. She couldn't even be sure it _was_ water.

Carefully, she dismounted, and pulled out Loki's book from the saddlebags. It took a bit of flipping, trying to understand Loki's system of organizing, but eventually she thought she figured out where she was on Yggdrasil. It was a planet in Vanaheim's realm, but not Vanaheim proper, and it was as uninhabited as Sigyn had first thought.

She pulled out a bit of bread and an apple for Sleipnir, and ate while she read the pages carefully. According to the map, assuming she was reading it correctly, there should be another path about an hour's ride from here that would take her to Svartalfheim. That was also a dead world, and Sigyn could not linger or Heimdall would likely try to pull her home. But Loki had last been heard from on Dvergarheim, and it looked as though the quickest path there went through Svartalfheim.

Or there was Midgard, but every realm had paths to Midgard. It was a nexus, according to Loki's notes in the book; you could get to nearly anywhere from Midgard, and get to Midgard from nearly any realm. There were so many paths in and out that Sigyn could get lost there for months, trying to find the right one to lead her to Loki. She would have no choice but to explore the world and interact with the mortals, and that would be dangerous.

So. A less direct route avoided Midgard, but would ultimately take her less time to complete. That meant Svartalfheim, and hoping that she had enough food to make it to the next path out to Dvergarheim.

If she were Loki, she would likely be able to skip all this nonsense and simply walk the branches wherever she wanted to go. But she didn't have his power nor Sleipnir's ability, so taking short jaunts from point to point was the best she would be able to manage.

"I will still come for you, my love," she said.

The crashing of the waves on the shore was her only answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn travels to Svartalfheim, then makes an unexpected detour.

Svartalfheim was an eerie place, empty of life. Sigyn knew the tales, that the king of the dark elves had sacrificed his own people in an attempt to win a war against Asgard, and seeing the desolation before her made her wonder just how much of the tale was true. A dry breeze stirred grit from the blackened ground, and the wreckage of once-proud structures jutted up from the earth at haphazard angles, looking as if a single good push would knock them over. Clouds roiled overhead, and thunder crackled, but no rain fell, and the air smelled bitter and burned Sigyn's throat.

"Oh, Loki, only you would come to such a place and explore it," she said, and her voice seemed to echo in the stillness.

Loki's map claimed that the passage to Dvergarheim lay… farther away than Sigyn had hoped. It might be a three-day journey, although with Sleipnir it might be shorter. Still, she was not at all sure she had food enough for the trip, and little for Sleipnir besides, and there would be nothing she could glean from the land here. Even the streams and oceans of the realm had dried up, long ago, in the conflagration that had ended the war and the dark elves all at the same time.

Still, there was nothing for it. Sigyn bit her lip and turned Sleipnir's head in the direction Loki's map indicated. She urged him into an easy canter, not wanting to tire him out or risk him cutting a foot on the sharp gravel.

* * *

 

Night fell, and the wind picked up. Sigyn found shelter, such as it was, in the lee side of a low cliff. There was nothing to burn for a fire, and neither moonlight nor starlight thanks to the overcast clouds. Even the sunset had seemed washed of life, just a gradual bleeding away of the daylight with no change in the sky's colors to mark the sun's passing below the horizon.

At least she had Sleipnir to keep her warm, but the little bit of feed she'd spared for him had amounted to only a few mouthfuls and he was clearly hungry for more. Sigyn wondered if his seidr made him hungry all the time, the way Loki's did; whenever her love worked a lot of magic, he needed to eat enough for five men afterward, and he was irritable and snappish until he'd gotten his fill. Loki had told her once that the only time he'd seen the horse actually fatigued was after he'd traveled between realms several times in one day, back when Loki was learning the trick of it for himself.

Sigyn hoped that she did not wear Sleipnir out in this quest.

* * *

Then next day was more of the same; endless, gritty wind stirring up sand that got in Sigyn's eyes and nose and behind her ears, dull light from a heavy overcast sky, and a complete absence of life that Sigyn could identify. If there was water anywhere here, Sigyn never saw it, much less any plants or animals. The place was a planet-sized mausoleum, and Sigyn could feel every step as an effrontery and a trespass against the dead. She couldn't even bring herself to speak to Sleipnir, to disturb the quiet.

It was fortunate that Loki's book listed landmarks by which Sigyn could guide her progress, or she might have become hopelessly lost. There were certainly no roads to follow, although Sigyn did think at one point that she might have spotted the remains of a city in the far distance. The thought that Loki might have explored that city brought the pain to Sigyn's chest again, and a burning to her dry eyes.

* * *

Skittering, clacking noises in the night woke Sigyn from a fitful sleep; Sleipnir's head lifted and he whickered lowly before heaving himself to his feet, shoving Sigyn back a little before she regained her balance. The darkness was nearly absolute, and the wind still blew relentlessly across the dead ground, but something was out there, moving counter to the wind.

Was it possible that there was still some form of life on this dead world? Sigyn decided she did not want to stay around to find out.

She'd been using the saddlebags for a pillow, so now she tossed them over her shoulder and began tightening the girth strap on Sleipnir's saddle, which she had loosened while they rested for the night. The noises sounded nearer, and Sigyn heaved herself onto his back as quickly as she could, while he shifted restlessly.

"Go, Sleipnir," she said, as soon as her feet were in the stirrups, and the great horse broke into a trot; then something snapped and clattered near his hooves and he neighed and leaped ahead at full speed, nearly unbalancing Sigyn. Her hair streamed behind her and her eyes watered in the wind of his passing. The reins were loose and Sigyn could not see to reach for them, nor did she want to fall; instead, she clutched at the pommel of the saddle as Sleipnir ran. She could only hope that he could see better in the dark than she could, and wouldn't run them off the edge of a ravine or into a boulder.

Sigyn hadn't asked it of him, but she felt the sudden burst of speed followed by the incredible silence of the paths between the realms, and the darkness gave way to… well, to more darkness, but dimly lit now by the familiar sight of billowing nebulae above and below her, before her and on both sides. She knew better than to look for them behind her, this time.

 _Good boy, Sleipnir_ , she thought, patting the horse's neck silently. Carefully, Sigyn gathered up the reins and slowed their headlong flight, and dragged the saddlebags off her shoulder to rest across the saddle in front of her.

The path before them was unmarked by Sleipnir's hooves, but Sigyn thought she could make out faint marks from Loki's passage here, once upon a time. She could hope that this path was in his book, and that they weren't lost. But even if they were, there was nothing for it; the only way off the paths was forward until they found an exit. Sigyn could only pray that her amulets for luck and safe travels would do their work, and that they would come out somewhere relatively safe.

She swallowed nervously, and urged Sleipnir on.

* * *

The path this time was long and meandering, with only the faintest of tracks on it to light their way. The clouds of the cosmos ebbed and surged and seemed almost close enough to touch, while the silence seemed to hide a watchful presence that Sigyn couldn't shake from her imagination. Sleipnir, for his part, seemed as surefooted as ever, following the path forward until it gradually began to widen. Sigyn supposed that other thin "twigs" of Yggdrasil's branches must be joining up with theirs.

It was as impossible as always to guess the passage of time here, but Sigyn thought they must have traveled for at least a couple of hours before the path widened again, and a set of clearer marks joined their trail. She let out a breath of relief and urged Sleipnir to go a little faster, following the green glow of Loki and Sleipnir's magic.

She was even more relieved when the green marks increased, telling her that Loki had traveled both directions on this part of the paths. Surely there was a destination ahead where Sigyn would be able to rest, and give Sleipnir more to eat.

She was unprepared for the moment when they finally did leave the paths and reenter the realms; the sky was blindingly bright in comparison to the dark in which they'd been riding, and the air was both stiflingly hot and incredibly _loud_. Sigyn was caught between throwing up an arm to shield her eyes, and using both hands to cover her ears. Beneath her seat she could feel Sleipnir shy and dance to one side, clearly as uncomfortable as she was. The air reeked of sulfur and other noxious gases, and Sigyn stifled a cough as her eyes began to water.

After a moment she was able to look around her, and her squinting eyes grew wide. They were on a steep hillside of jagged black rock, which sloped down to a cracked plain through which flowed a thin stream of lava. Around the stream, hunched creatures hopped on sharp-clawed feet, snapping at one another and nosing among the sharpened rocks, with long tails held out stiffly for balance. The earth rumbled every few minutes, and in the distance she could hear what sounded like the roar of a furnace, where a mountain stood smoking against the horizon.

"Muspelheim," breathed Sigyn, then coughed again. A few of the creatures raised their heads to look at her, then chirruped at one another, cocking their heads curiously in her direction.

Sigyn could see their teeth from here, and quickly pulled out Loki's book to find the next path out. She flipped hastily through the pages to find the section on Muspelheim, most of which had labels in the margins like, " _bad idea_ " and " _come back when they're not at war_ ". Sigyn fought the urge to laugh, a little desperately, at Loki's old observations.

The creatures below luckily didn't seem to be too hostile, or too hungry, but Sigyn wasted no time in turning Sleipnir's head away from them and getting to a clear section of the plain. He stepped carefully, and she let him, not wanting to risk a cut foot here any more than she had on Svartalfheim. It was probably more likely that he would slip and fall where rock gave way to sand, than find a sharp stone.

At least Muspelheim had water, scarce though it was. Sleipnir sniffed it out, and made a beeline for what turned out to be a small pool surrounded by dense vegetation. There were Muspels camped nearby, but Sigyn avoided them and trusted in her amulets to keep her from being noticed, and allowed Sleipnir to drink his fill before turning him away again. Either the Muspels never saw them, or did not think she presented enough of a threat to them or their water supply, because they were able to get in and out undisturbed.

Or so she'd thought.

"You," came the voice from behind her. Sigyn turned to find herself facing a lone Muspel, who stood as tall as a Jotun but whose skin was a brindled red-brown. Its eyes—Sigyn couldn't tell if the being was male or female—were glowing orange the same color as the lava stream she and Sleipnir had left behind earlier. "You steal water."

"No!" Sigyn was quick to reply. "I intend no trespass. I only—"

"You only take water for your mount, without asking permission." The Muspel stepped closer, glaring down at her menacingly.

"I didn't know," said Sigyn. "I can pay, if you tell me what the payment is."

The Muspel took another few steps before stopping, sniffing the air. "Aesir."

"Er. Yes?"

"You smell like the Sky Walker," said the Muspel. "Or his magic, which amounts to the same thing."

Sigyn lifted her chin. "He is my husband. You know of him?"

"My clan guards this oasis. He has trespassed here before, the same as you have." The Muspel tilted its head. "He was quick to offer payment as well, but less quick to actually give it."

"Perhaps he intended to return and repay you later."

"Somehow I doubt that," said the Muspel. Its voice was as dry as the air Sigyn breathed.

"If you but name it," she replied, "if the payment is within my power, I shall give it to you. I have no reason to deceive you."

"Yet your husband did?" said the other, one corner of its mouth curling up into a smirk. "Is that why he goes wandering without you?"

"He explores the realms because he is insatiably curious," said Sigyn. "Ordinarily it pleases us both, but now it is time for him to come home."

The Muspel considered her for a moment. "You smell of other magics, besides his. Not sorcery."

Sigyn thought of her amulets, and said cautiously, "On Asgard, we call it hearth magic."

"On Asgard, you contain your fires to hearths," said the Muspel. "Here we call it witchery, or low magic. As opposed to sorcery, or high magic."

Sigyn nodded. "Loki, my husband, is skilled in both, but is mainly a sorcerer. I suppose you could say I am a witch."

"Then witchery shall be your payment for the water you took," said the Muspel. "I wish an amulet for good hunting, that I may feed my clan and children."

"I can do that," said Sigyn. She bit her lip, and added, "It might not be very strong…"

"It will be strong enough."

The Muspel gave its name as Metsastaja, but Sigyn still couldn't tell if it was a man or woman; on the other hand, she mused, Muspels and Jotnar were similar in that some of them were "undivided" and could be both. Such lore wasn't common knowledge on Asgard, but Loki had learned it from his teacher Mimir, and had shared that lesson with her.

It was hot, sweaty work; Sigyn sat beneath a tree out of the worst glare of the sun, but the air was hot enough to make breathing difficult and even the breeze seemed to pull the moisture from her body. She carved a wooden disk and placed the runes on it, then activated them with a drop of Metsastaja's blood; for good measure, and because she was thirsty, she carved a second amulet without being asked.

"To sharpen one's eyesight," she explained, passing it to the Muspel as she stood. Sleipnir was drowsing peacefully at the water's edge, cooling his hooves in the soft mud there while the other Muspels stared. No doubt he must seem very strange to them, foreign in shape and color. Everything here seemed to be some shade of black or red or orange, and Sleipnir's blue-gray stood out against the sand and rock.

"The price was one amulet," said Metsastaja.

"I hoped to refill my water skins before we left. I don't expect us to return to trouble you."

Metsastaja nodded, and also stood, looming over Sigyn's slight frame. "The first amulet would have been enough. You are small and would not take much water for yourself." The Muspel nodded again, decisively. "The second amulet will go toward your husband's debt. You may take your fill, and safe journey to you."

"Thank you."

"Where will you go?"

"I need to check my maps first, but I think my destination lies over those hills," she replied, pointing off into the distance.

"There is nothing for you there," said Metsastaja with a little frown. "Nothing lives there save the kettuja and susia. It would not be safe for you to go there alone."

"I am following my husband," explained Sigyn. "The Sky Walker."

"He taught you this magic?" asked the Muspel.

Sigyn took a breath, fighting the urge to cough in the dry air. "Not quite. I can only follow where he has gone." It wasn't quite the truth, but she wasn't about to confess that Sleipnir could walk between the realms and take passengers with him. The horse was priceless, in more ways than one; if he were stolen, not only would she be unable to complete her journey, but Loki would be heartbroken, and so would Sigyn. He was a sweet creature, and Sigyn needed him with her if her journey was to have any success at all.

Fortunately, Metsastaja took her at her word. "He has not been seen here in years, but I remember that he did explore beyond the hills. He explored them _quickly_ , for he was fleeing our wrath at the time."

Sigyn could not hide the smile. "His maps do say that it is unwise for him to return to Muspelheim."

"Unwise. Heh. Perhaps if he were to return we would be less hostile toward him. If he were to pay fairly for his water this time. If you are his wife, he cannot be completely untrustworthy."

"It is kind of you to say so," said Sigyn. "I am sure he would welcome the chance to learn your customs."

Metsastaja shrugged. "We shall see. If he were to return, your witchery has paid well enough for me to bear him no ill will, in any case."

* * *

"That was lucky," said Sigyn, stroking Sleipnir's neck. Her water skin was full and the Muspels had offered her fruit from the oasis as well; she planned to make for Dvergarheim on this next jaunt, so she thought her supplies would hold until they reached their destination. Her amulet for good fortune, painted along the inside of one forearm, was warm on her sweat-damp skin. "They could have been much less friendly than they were, considering."

Equally luckily, Loki's maps had shown her that the next path was not far from the oasis at all, although not quite beyond the hills as Sigyn had suspected. She wiped sweat from her upper lip and the back of her neck, and urged Sleipnir on. She waited until they were out of sight of the Muspel camp to pull out Loki's book, then turned his head in the correct direction.

The paths of Yggdrasil felt almost blessedly cool in comparison to the heat they left behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn arrives on Dvergarheim, and meets someone new.

Sleipnir was famous for his stamina, but by the time they left the paths and came out on Dvergarheim, he was beginning to show signs of fatigue. The stallion let out a heavy sigh as Sigyn guided him toward a narrow, winding track along the side of a mountain, part of a range that stretched for miles in both directions as far as Sigyn could see. He didn't stumble or falter, but he seemed willing simply to walk or trot rather than fly across the uneven ground with his usual enthusiasm. His many hooves beat a soothing rhythm against the ground as they traveled.

Dvergarheim had once been like Muspelheim, eons in the past: a young world full of volcanic and seismic activity, where little could survive. Dvergarheim was older, though, and much of the land was now green with life, where it wasn't white with snow or gray stone. Mountains jutted up into a sky so clear it was said one could see the stars by day, though privately Sigyn suspected that that was only legend. Certainly Loki had never described anything like that to her from his travels here.

Most of the people of Dvergarheim lived underground, where the climate was milder; storms on Dvergarheim could rage for days, lashing the mountainsides with icy rain and hail, and whipping winds that could push an unlucky traveler to their death. By contrast, life in the great caverns was still and calm, the air thicker and easier to breathe as one traveled deeper, with entire ecosystems surviving in lands that never saw the light of the sun. The kings measured their territories by how many mountaintops they could claim as their own, but for the most part only the peasants lived and farmed near the surface. Hunters and, near the coasts, fisher folk made up the rest of the surface population.

There were storms approaching in the distance, and the bite in the thin mountain air was enough to redden Sigyn's cheeks, though the sun was warm on her shoulders. She hoped to find shelter in a village before the weather hit, but it was hard to tell from the surface where the cavern entrances might be located. It would not surprise her if the dwarfs covered many of them to protect themselves and their underground homes from the harsh elements outside.

Down she and Sleipnir went, winding back and forth along the side of the mountain; gradually the sparse snow thinned and disappeared altogether, and trees began to appear. Sigyn and Sleipnir both took deeper breaths as they entered a lovely forest of tall evergreens, Sleipnir's steps nearly silent over the thick bed of fallen needles.

"I suppose if worse comes to worst, we could find shelter here among the trees, hm?"

Sleipnir whickered and tossed his head, seeming a bit livelier now that he'd had some time on a solid world, after so long spent wandering between them.

Gradually, the sun crossed the sky, but it seemed that it moved behind the mountain in the span of only a moment. One second they were in dappled sunlight, and the next, plunged into the deep shade of the forest at twilight. The chill in the air, though it had lessened once they were out of the wind, returned with a vengeance, until Sigyn was forced to use a bit of magic to warm her coat. She wished she had thought to bring gloves with her, but hopefully she would find a place to stay before the cold really became an issue.

It was nearly full dark before Sigyn saw a light up ahead, and nudged Sleipnir toward it. He sighed and picked up the pace a little, clearly looking forward to taking a rest of his own, and before too much longer they came into a ravine where half a stone-and-mud hut seemed to be built around a cliff face, just off the side of their trail. A narrow stream at the bottom of the ravine flowed quietly into the hut, and Sleipnir eagerly began to drink.

"Hello?" called Sigyn, dismounting. "Is anyone there?"

There was a clatter from inside the hut, and then a dwarf woman stepped out into the clearing. She had iron-gray hair, pulled back into several thick braids that spilled across her shoulders, beneath a blue kerchief that matched her apron, and skin the color of rich clay. She had strong, capable hands with short, blunt fingers that ended in thick nails like talons, an adaptation to life underground; another adaptation, the heat-sensing pits on either side of her nose, were clearly visible, unlike those of dwarf men.

"Aesir," said the dwarf, in a thick accent. "Don't get many of your kind here."

"I hope I am not trespassing," Sigyn began, but the woman waved her off.

"I am called Rannveig, and I've been expecting you. Or someone like you, anyway. Come in where it is not so dark. Your kind do not like the dark, yes? Yes. Come in."

Sigyn blinked, but reached for the saddle bags and slung them over her shoulder. "Is there shelter for my horse?"

"Bring him in too." Rannveig turned and stomped back beneath the overhang of the hut's entrance. The place didn't seem to have enough room for even one person to live, much less two plus a large horse like Sleipnir, but Sigyn wasn't about to turn down an offer of hospitality.

Once inside, of course, she smiled at her own foolishness. The "half-hut" was protecting the entrance to a large cavern, lit with floating globes in many colors. After only three paces across the dirt outside, Sleipnir's hooves echoed against rock.

"You are a long way from home, Aesir," said Rannveig. "You and your horse."

"My name is Sigyn," she replied. "And I am searching for my husband."

"The Sky Traveler." At Sigyn's wondering expression, Rannveig's face split in a wide smile that made her look decades younger. "I may live near the surface, child, but I am no idiot. There is only one horse like that one in all the realms, and everyone knows his master is Loki Sky-Traveler."

"I'm sorry," said Sigyn. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

"Hm. You didn't. I live here alone, but for visitors from the deeps… and the occasional lost wanderer like yourself. Easy to assume I am ignorant of the affairs of the wider world, yes? Yes."

"Clearly a false assumption," said Sigyn, glancing about the cavern. It seemed bare to her, but this was likely only the entrance to a larger cave system. Rannveig's belongings might be farther in. "You said you were expecting me?"

"I was," said Rannveig, but she didn't elaborate. "Come, take a drink. Wash yourself from your travels."

The stream was cold but inviting, and Sigyn wasted no time splashing her face and hands, and taking a drink for herself. The water tasted sweet with iron deposits, where the water in her skin from the Muspelheim oasis had the bite of sulfur. She found herself drinking more deeply than she had planned, thirstier than she'd thought after most of a day of riding.

"It agrees with you, I see," said Rannveig. Sigyn startled to see the dwarf woman standing over her, but Rannveig only handed her a towel to wipe her face.

"The water is sweet," said Sigyn. "I like it."

"Sweet drinks for a sweet disposition," said Rannveig. "Come. You must be weary. You will eat, and sleep, and tomorrow we will talk."

"Talk?"

"There is much to discuss. As I said, I have been expecting you."

Despite Sigyn's protests, Rannveig would say no more about the subject. The dwarf fed her thick stew with mushrooms, and saw to it that Sleipnir had a bed full of straw while Sigyn ate, but barely spoke otherwise, despite Sigyn's attempts to draw her into conversation.

Sigyn had stood up once and tried to help with Sleipnir's keeping, but Rannveig had shooed her away. "You are a guest! Hush. Eat." Sleipnir, for his part, tolerated the older woman remarkably well, considering she was a stranger. Before long, he was settled and dozing, well-fed and groomed.

Sigyn was beginning to develop a suspicion about Rannveig; she waited until the dwarf brought her a second helping of stew before she tested it. "Thank you, völva."

"Ha! You are observant. It is good." The dwarf eyed her up and down as she sat back beside the cook fire. "You will need that."

"What do you mean?"

"Hm. Tomorrow we will talk."

"I am not so weary that we can't speak tonight," said Sigyn, trying to hide her annoyance.

"Your impatience will do you no favors, Sigyn of Asgard," said Rannveig. "You seek after a man who is good at hiding, and you seek in places others will not go. Will you give up on your search when you do not get what you want?"

"No!" Sigyn set her bowl aside and schooled her features. "It has been ten years since I have laid eyes upon my lover—he whom Frigga named my husband. Everyone else has given him up for dead. I am searching for him to bring him back. Do you think me impatient now?"

"Impatient? Yes. But not faithless, at least. It is good. You will need that too."

"You speak in riddles," complained Sigyn.

At this, the older woman laughed. "I am a völva, child. Riddles are all we know."

* * *

 

Despite her annoyance, Sigyn slept well and deeply, comfortable on the bed of straw and blankets that Rannveig provided. In the morning, Rannveig was nowhere to be seen, so Sigyn tended to Sleipnir, then pulled out Loki's book of maps and settled back on her bed cross-legged.

"Those will not help you, child."

Again, Sigyn startled. "You move like a ghost," she said with a rueful laugh, looking up at Rannveig. The older woman was coming in through the entrance to the hut, carrying a basket that smelled strongly of fresh herbs.

"The land knows me," she said with a shrug. "We know each other well, here."

"I can imagine. You've lived in this cave a long time?"

"Since I was a child. Some few thousand years. I've watched trees grow from seedlings and collapse from age. You don't get much of that in the Realm Eternal, I think."

"No, I suppose not. We preserve things so that they don't age or wear away."

"All things age, child. It is the way of things, everywhere in the Nine except for Asgard."

Sigyn frowned a little. "What are you saying?"

Rannveig put down her basket and tromped closer, folding her arms and glaring down at Sigyn. "I am saying that there is a time for everything. Including the death of your husband. Or his love for you. Perhaps he is not coming back because he is tired of you, hm?"

"I refuse to believe that," said Sigyn. "Even if it were true—which it is not—my Loki would return long enough to tell me goodbye."

The older woman shrugged and cocked one eyebrow in exaggerated indifference. "Then perhaps he is dead, and you are wasting your time."

Sigyn took a deep breath against the tears that welled up in her eyes. "I know what you are trying to do," she said. "Testing me to see if I'm truly determined to carry out my course. It won't work. You won't convince me not to go after him."

Rannveig laughed, and Sigyn could not tell if it was mocking or if the dwarf was covering compassion; if it were genuine, or part of the völva's performance. "How? You do not even know where he has gone, child."

"That's the point, then, isn't it?" Sigyn retorted. "To find out where he has gone and then bring him back."

"And if he does not wish to return?"

"Then he will tell me that himself." But given what she knew… "You heard him cry out, too, didn't you?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"No." Rannveig sighed, and her shoulders dropped, and Sigyn thought perhaps her performance was over. "I did not. Your Loki does not often come to Dvergarheim, and has few friends here. But I know those who do know him. I know what they heard, two years ago now."

"Then you know why I am going after him."

"I want to know why you did not go then."

It was Sigyn's turn to sigh, as she leaned back on one hand in her straw bed. "At the time, I still trusted that he would be found by other methods. I trusted that he would be able to come back to us on his own. Now it is obvious that he can't, and the other methods either didn't work or are being abandoned. Everyone else is giving up. I refuse to."

Slowly, Rannveig nodded. "Good."

She said nothing more for a long moment, though Sigyn waited for her. "Good?"

"Yes," said the dwarf, dropping down to sit beside Sigyn on the blankets. "As I said last night. I have been expecting someone like you. Loki has few friends, but more than most realize. And those he keeps are all as loyal to him as he is to them. It is right that you should be most loyal of all, closest to his heart as you are."

"You don't… you don't really know me," said Sigyn, frowning. "I thank you for the compliment, but how would you know something like that?"

"We volur have our ways," said Rannveig, then waggled her eyebrows so outrageously that Sigyn had to laugh.

After a moment, she sobered, and bit her lip. "May I ask you something?"

"You may always ask. I may not always answer."

Sigyn traced her fingers across the cover of the book in her lap. "You said this wouldn't help me. Why not?"

Rannveig raised her eyebrow again. "Books will not tell you where Loki Sky-Traveler has gone."

"These are maps," said Sigyn. "Of the paths he has taken between the realms. They may not tell me where Loki is, but the last anyone heard, he was here on Dvergarheim. If he's not here anymore, then he must have taken one of these paths to get to wherever he is now."

"Sensible enough," allowed Rannveig. "Unless he took a path that is not in your book."

Sigyn nodded, reluctantly. "That is possible. But where else am I to start?"

"Mm. And what if he is not anywhere in the Nine Realms? Does his book tell you about those places?"

"I haven't had time to read about the paths from Dvergarheim," Sigyn admitted. "But if he is outside the Nine, I will still follow him."

"There is another possibility, child, and I wonder if you have thought of it."

"What possibility?"

Rannveig tapped Sigyn on the chin and peered into her eyes with a somber expression. "Perhaps your Sky Traveler never reached his destination, and is still between the realms."

The thought of it chilled her, and only grew more horrifying the longer she entertained it. The darkness and inescapable silence of the branches of Yggdrasil. The sense that there was something watching, and the way that sometimes strange creatures would draw near as they traversed the paths.

The way one could only go forward and never back, on any path one chose. The immensity of the void that lay always just a step behind, so that Sigyn couldn't even look at the path immediately behind her without her mind trying to blank out the horror.

Was it possible to fall off the paths? Was Loki trapped in the void? Could that watchful presence be Loki himself, now, trying to reach her and unable?

Had he been caught by one of the alien creatures that drifted through that void? Her imagination supplied her with one more question: could Loki have _become_ one of those creatures, after so long away from the realms?

Sigyn shivered, unable to banish the thought.

"You are afraid," said Rannveig. "For yourself, or for him?"

"Both," whispered Sigyn. She blinked, and was surprised to feel cold tears drip onto her cheeks.

"Good," replied Rannveig, just as quietly. She leaned forward, and patted Sigyn gruffly on the shoulder. "Good."

Sigyn reared back, unable to hide her anger this time. "Good? Do you still seek to dissuade me? You will not. Afraid or not, I _will_ go after my husband. If he yet lives, I will bring him home. If he is dead, I will bring his body."

"And if there is no body?"

"Then I will _decide_ what to do when I find that out for certain!"

Rannveig smiled again, in apparent delight, but Sigyn was not sure she trusted the völva's expressions anymore. "You have fire. You hide it well but it is there."

"I suppose you will tell me that I will have need of that, as well."

"Why tell you? You already know."

"Then why is it good that I am afraid? Why is it good that I am _terrified_ of what may have befallen him?"

The older woman _tsk_ -ed and shook her head. "Think, child! It means you are not out for the glory of the quest. You are using your head and are aware of the dangers." Rannveig rolled her eyes and hauled herself back to her feet. "Well. Most of the dangers. Some of them, I doubt you could imagine."

"I've seen things on the paths that defy description," Sigyn shot back. "I think I can imagine plenty."

"Then read your book," the dwarf said. "Read it and imagine what may have happened to your Loki. And then prepare for everything you have imagined, for it is likely you will encounter it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's adventures on Dvergarheim.

According to Loki's maps, there were only about ninety paths that he had explored on all of Dvergarheim, compared to the hundreds he had cataloged on Asgard and the thousands that he claimed could be found on Midgard. Loki's notes indicated that he was sure there were more paths, but he didn't have a good reason to come to the dwarf realm most of the time to look for them. Sigyn still remembered Loki's adoption by General Tyr, after his encounter with Brokkr and Eitri, and couldn't blame him for avoiding the place.

Most of the paths that Loki had documented were within a two-day travel radius of Nidavellir, the region that held Dvergarheim's capital city. Rannveig had been kind enough to leave her home and travel with Sigyn to Nidavellir, and find accommodations for them in one of the city's temples with the other volur who lived there.

"I have not visited my sisters in a long time, child. It will be good to leave, if only so that I appreciate my home all the more when I return."

Some of the paths in Loki's book were located on mountaintops where the wind howled unceasingly, the air thin enough that even an Aesir would have trouble breathing, or along precarious tracks leading up the side of the mountain where the footing was treacherous; others were deep underground, hidden away down tunnels or in abandoned chambers; and one was even smack in the middle of one of Nidavellir's many bustling marketplaces.

But Loki had explored them all, and so Sigyn did too.

* * *

 

Three months into her quest, she returned one night to find General Tyr himself, waiting for her outside the temple.

"Will you come home?" he asked, after they had exchanged greetings and sat down to the evening meal.

"Not until I have found Loki," she replied.

"Sigyn—" Tyr broke off, and sighed, and rubbed at his forehead with his silver hand. "Your parents are worried sick."

That was perhaps a low blow, but not unfair. "He is my husband, General. The queen herself named him such. We have been in love for hundreds of years. I will not throw that away simply because he has not been seen in a decade. He's been able to hide himself from Heimdall's sight for over a century, now, since Vanaheim."

"And because of the decree of a queen, you will completely discount the decree of a king, then? And I should add that Frigga named you his widow, not his wife."

"The one presupposes the other, General. And I am loyal to Asgard, just as any citizen, but even the great Odin All-Father can be wrong from time to time."

Tyr raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his seat. "He would not be best pleased to hear that one of his subjects thinks him _wrong_ about anything."

Sigyn's lips thinned, and she looked at a point somewhere beyond Tyr's shoulder when she answered. "He is rarely pleased where Loki is concerned, General. That is not my affair."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tyr's mouth twitch as if he were fighting a smile… or a scowl. "You truly believe him to still be alive?" he asked.

Now Sigyn met his eyes. "I do."

He took a deep breath, and a drink from his mug, before he spoke again. "Why?"

"His magic persists, for one," said Sigyn. "The wards on his chambers, some of the items in his study." The crystal with the bit of his seidr inside it, that Miiran had given her. "If he were truly dead, his magic should have faded by now."

"Loki is—was—very powerful."

"Not powerful enough to defy that rule. Death breaks almost all magics, certainly all personal ones like Loki's wards. His chambers are not afforded the protection of all Asgard, like the palace vaults." Sigyn shook her head. "I would have thought Mimir, of all people, would know that rule and look into Loki's supposed death more closely."

"He likely would say that Loki was powerful enough—"

" _Is_ powerful enough."

Again, Tyr sighed. "Very well. _Is_ powerful enough, that his magic breaks many rules believed to be universal before he came along. It is entirely possible that Loki's wards would outlast him, even in the event of his death."

"I do not believe that to be the case," she said simply.

"And that is the problem," retorted Tyr. "There are those who are saying that you have gone mad in your grief and refuse to face reality, Sigyn. There are those who think I should _make_ you come home where you belong, so that your parents can tend to you."

"I am not a child!" Sigyn shot to her feet, her face flushing as the temple's dining hall grew silent around her. She lowered her voice, but continued just as passionately. "Do you think I have not considered that? Because I have. And I do not _care_ what my parents or anyone else in Asgard think of me. My husband is alive, and I will prove it or die trying, because I refuse to live another day without him, accepting the word of others who are willing to _give up_ on their own son or student or brother rather than lift a finger to offer him aid!"

"That is quite enough," said Tyr flatly. Sigyn had never seen him so angry, though he did not raise his voice even a little. "You do not get to accuse _me_ of giving up on my son. Nor Thor, his brother. Nor Fandral or the rest of them, their friend. You may feel whatever you like, but you do _not_ have the right to accuse us of loving Loki less than you, as if this were some sort of competition to be won."

The hurt that had lived buried behind Sigyn's breastbone flared again, and tears welled up in her eyes. "But you all think he is dead," she said, her voice shaking. "And I cannot accept that. Do you not see? I will not."

Tyr held out a hand to her, and she found herself sitting down, if only to get the stares of the volur and the other dwarfs off of her.

"But you have no proof, Sigyn…"

"Loki walks between the realms!" Tears slipped down her face, but she made no move to dash them away. "He could be lost there. He could be missing from Heimdall's sight because Heimdall cannot _see_ the places where Loki walks. I am searching for him where no one else has thought to look! It could be that all the proof of his survival _or_ his d-demise is, is floating there in the void, waiting for one of us to come and claim it. Or to find _him,_ and bring him _home_." Now she reached up and swept the tears from her cheeks. "And I will not rest until I have walked every path that Loki has, and failed to find him on any of them. I will explore all of Midgard if I must, but I am starting my search _here_ , where he was last seen. And neither you nor my parents nor the All-Father himself will dissuade me from my task until I am satisfied for _myself_ that he is truly gone."

She was trembling when Tyr took her in his arms, but she did not resist his embrace. His silver hand stroked down her back and she could feel it, hard and cold and soothing nonetheless.

"You are as a daughter to me," he said into her hair. "I care for you for yourself, as much as for Loki's sake. I have come to know you over the centuries, and you are worthy of his affections."

"Then why try to dissuade me?" Sigyn sat back, sniffling, and looked him in the eye. "I thought you of all people—"

"I do," said Tyr. "I do believe he might still live, but unlike you I have no way to travel the paths. I have no seidr to use to look for him, even if I were to ride Sleipnir myself. But I promised your parents I would try. They truly are beside themselves with worry for you."

"I am sorry for their fears, but… not sorry enough to stop what I am doing."

Tyr nodded, accepting that. "What do you see, on the paths?"

"Footprints," said Sigyn. "Or at least, some sort of mark to show where Loki and Sleipnir have traveled. I am hoping to find a path that he has only traveled once; a new branching off the roads he describes in his book. It is possible that he will lead me right to him, if all goes well."

"Loki once told me of dangers on these paths of his."

Sigyn nodded, and began tearing a piece of bread into crumbs to scatter across her plate. "They exist. I am protecting myself as best I can. So far, I have only been noticed once by one of the creatures that dwell in the spaces between the branches. It looked me in the eye and then continued on its way."

"That is lucky," remarked the general.

"That is what half of my amulets are for," said Sigyn with a wry smile. "I may not be a sorcerer of Loki's caliber, but my skills with hearth magic are not to be discounted."

"I suppose not." He sighed. "Will your magic be enough?'

"It will have to be." Sigyn echoed his sigh, and they finished their meal in silence.

* * *

 

Exploring every pathway in Loki's book took her months, and sometimes it required gaining special permission from the dwarf king, Hreidmarr. One couldn't simply charge a massive warhorse through a crowded marketplace, after all, and the tunnels usually led to private homes or workplaces, the land owned by someone who might not want Sigyn to be there. Sigyn had to negotiate passage for herself and Sleipnir, more than once, and occasionally the barter was backbreaking, even humiliating labor in exchange for permission to run her horse toward an underground rock wall.

She wasn't sure she would ever forgive the dwarf who insisted that he knew where Loki had last been seen, and would tell her if she helped haul his accumulated coal to the surface for transport to other villages. She worked for him for nearly a month, until she and Sleipnir were both exhausted and filthy, until finally one day they finished.

"I have upheld my end of the bargain," she said to him. "Now, tell me where my husband has gone."

"I don't actually know," smirked the dwarf. "I just wanted to see if an Aesir would actually dirty her pretty little hands like the rest of us decent folk."

Exhausted and in shock, Sigyn swayed on her feet, likely going pale beneath the coal dust coating her skin. "You… you lied to me?"

"Ha! The look on your face right now!" The dwarf leaned in, leering at her. "As if I'd give a _piss_ to help Loki Scar Lip, or his pretty wife."

Sigyn was so angry that she began to tremble with it. "You… filthy, pit-dwelling mud crawler," she breathed, and watched the dwarf's leer twist into a ferocious scowl.

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me," Sigyn said, raising her voice. Other dwarfs in the area stopped and began to stare. "I called you a pit-dwelling mud crawler. A cheat. A thief! I dealt with you fairly and this is how you repay me?"

The gathering crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. "You may not know this, Aesir, but among _our_ kind, to call him thief is a serious accusation," said one.

"We bartered, my work for his information," cried Sigyn. "I slaved for him for no pay, no food, not even a drink of silted water each day," and she watched as the dwarfs reacted to that, "while he stared at my body like I was a common whore and mocked me daily. All this, I endured for my husband's sake, who is missing and who I am trying to find and bring home. All this, because this miserable pit-dweller _swore_ to me that he knew where my husband was last seen. And now he tells me that all my work was for nothing, because he _lied_ to me! Our barter was for nothing! Not only does he have no idea where Loki was last seen, but his only aim was to humiliate me for being Aesir. He broke his _oath_ ," she added, watching the dwarfs react again. "Tell me that that is not a cheat of our bargain!"

The crowd fell silent, and one of them finally walked up and smacked the other dwarf on the back of the head. "I told you not to make this bargain with the Aesir, Trud," she said. "Now you stand accused before all of us."

" _Loki's_ woman should have been smart enough to say something by now," said Trud, and the woman smacked him again.

"If anything, she should have known she couldn't trust a son of Brokkr to deal fairly with her, but I imagine you didn't tell her who your father was, now did you?"

"Brokkr? The one who mutilated my husband when he was still only a boy? Brokkr was your father?" Trud had the audacity to grin at her as if he'd won something from her, and Sigyn walked up and looked him in the eye, not caring that he was half a head taller than her and twice as broad. "Your father was a _piglet_ , Trud," she said, voice shaking with rage, "and so are you."

Trud roared and backhanded Sigyn hard enough to knock her down, but the rest of the dwarfs rushed in and separated them, everyone shouting and shoving, one holding Sigyn back while three others pinned Trud to keep him from attacking her.

"I _curse_ you, Trud!" she shouted over the din. "Your ore will burn and your metal will be rotten, and no one will ever buy your wares! You can starve in the mud where you belong! I curse you! Pig! Mud wallower! Pit dwelling pig!"

Someone struck Sigyn on the back of the head, and she slumped in the dwarfs' arms, stunned. By the time her legs and arms were working right again, they'd bundled her halfway back to the temple, Sleipnir following behind in the dimly lit tunnel. Tears were flowing down her filthy cheeks, and her head throbbed where she'd been struck.

The dwarfs did not speak, although one of them looked at her pityingly when she began struggling to walk under her own power. He shook his head, charms in his beard tinkling together, but still said nothing. The dwarfs were not rough with her, but they wouldn't let her turn around and go back to face Trud, either.

Rannveig was waiting for her at the temple, though she did not speak until the other dwarfs had bowed respectfully and gone away. "It would be best if you explored elsewhere for a time," she said, neither kind nor cold. "Those were deadly insults you gave to Trud."

"He deserved them," said Sigyn, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her fingernails and all the seams of her skin were black with coal dust.

"He may well have, yes," said Rannveig. "He cheated you, and did it for his own entertainment. It was poorly done and vile of him. But the insults you gave could have seen you dead, child, and may still if any take his side in the quarrel between you."

"Do you think they will?"

The older woman sighed, and pushed a bundle of fresh clothing in Sigyn's arms. "Go bathe," she said, and left the room, leaving Sigyn standing alone and feeling like a fool.

In the bath, humiliation, grief, and exhaustion caught up to her, and she wept, truly wept, for the first time since leaving Asgard.

* * *

 

Between that incident and the king constantly giving her permission to explore various parts of Nidavellir, Sleipnir's ability to walk between the worlds became more widely known; Sigyn received several offers of gold and jewels in truly exorbitant amounts, from dwarfs who wanted to buy him and see the other realms for themselves. She ended up carving and inking talismans into Sleipnir's harness, and weaving amulets into his mane, to prevent him being stolen when she inevitably said no.

At last the day came when she reached the final path in Loki's book. They had all led to other worlds within the realm, or other realms within the Nine. Some of the worlds were uninhabited, while others were sparsely populated by elves or dwarfs or even giants who, for one reason or another, had no desire to remain on the primary world of their realm. She ended up on Midgard once, and while the moon was enormous and beautiful, she nonetheless promptly turned around and left before anyone could notice her arrival.

On each realm, Sigyn brought out the crystal that Miiran had given her, with Loki's seidr collected inside it. After the humiliating incident with Trud, Sigyn had taken a few days to recover from her exhaustion and her injury, and had worked numerous charms and spells with the crystal as their focus. If she had crafted them correctly, the crystal should light up or grow warm or in some other way indicate that she was getting close to Loki, but nothing ever happened.

"What will you do now?" asked Rannveig that evening.

Sigyn couldn't reply for a long moment, simply breathing through the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. "I don't know," she said finally. "Perhaps it is time to try Midgard. But from what we know, he was last seen here, on Dvergarheim."

"But not necessarily in Nidavellir," said the völva.

"That is true," said Sigyn. "But I've explored every path in Loki's book."

"Mm. And what does that tell you, then?"

"That Loki likely took a path that isn't _in_ his book. I know," Sigyn sighed. "But how can I find that path? Who can I talk to to learn where Loki was last seen, here on Dvergarheim, nearly ten years ago? And what are the odds that the last conversation he had was actually near the last path he took away?"

"Does this mean you are giving up?" asked Rannveig. The gleam in her eye was more than a little irritating.

"No. And you needn't sound so eager for it," said Sigyn.

The older dwarf smiled again, looking so much younger when she did. "Whom might you ask, to see where Loki was, years into the past?"

"It isn't whom, so much as _what_ ," said Sigyn. "Or how."

"How would they know?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure if you think, the answer will come to you," said Rannveig. Sigyn thought she looked entirely too self-satisfied.

The answer, of course, was that someone would have to either remember what they'd seen, or else scry for it. "You know something," she realized. Anger pricked at her insides again. "You know something, and you haven't told me of it?"

"Calm yourself, child."

"I will not!"

"Then I will not tell you what you need to know." The völva shrugged and popped a parsnip into her mouth, as if Sigyn's choice were of no import to her.

"Rannveig…" Sigyn stopped, and took a deep breath. And then another, because she could feel her anger mounting. "Rannveig. Völva. I am as calm as I am likely to get. Will you please tell me what you have learned?"

"I see you've learned a better grasp of your temper."

" _Please_ , Rannveig."

Rannveig waved her hand lazily. "Yes, yes. I shall."

Sigyn waited, but the older woman did not elaborate. "Well?"

"Well. I _haven't_ learned anything new, truth be told. We volur keep many secrets, but you have proved yourself worthy of our aid. If we knew where the Sky Traveler was, we would have told you by now."

"But you do know _something_."

Rannveig cocked her head, in that way she had whenever she was about to test Sigyn. "How would someone know where to find Loki, after all these years?"

"They would have to scry for it," said Sigyn. "I've already tried that. The queen, Frigga, is much more skilled than I at such things, and she has attempted it as well; many times, over the years. We found nothing, every time."

"And have you tried to scry him while here, on Dvergarheim?"

Sigyn shook her head. "I've either been too busy traveling, or too exhausted at the end of a journey."

"And you are not very skilled at the art, you said."

"I'm not. I wish I had more power, some days, but…" She heaved a sigh. "I am what I am."

"We here at the temple are skilled enough," said Rannveig, "and if we were to combine our powers, we could almost certainly scry into the past far enough to see what you need. But there is a price."

In dwarf society, Sigyn had learned, there was always a price. Nothing was ever done for free, and dwarfs tied their honor to their debts and the completion of fair bargains. It was why Trud's betrayal had come as such a shock, not just to her but to the other dwarfs. "If it is within my power, I will pay it," said Sigyn: the formal opening words to any negotiation of import.

"You carry a piece of Loki's seidr with you," said Rannveig. "Trapped in a crystal."

Sigyn sat up, eyes wide. "How did you know that? Have you gone through my belongings?"

"Priorities, child," said Rannveig, which did not answer the question. "That crystal is our price. We will need it as a focus for our spell; the Sky Traveler is known for being able to hide his tracks from other seidkonur. Without the crystal, we would learn nothing. Without it, we will not even bother to try."

It was the last piece of Loki that Sigyn had; apart from Sleipnir, his belongings were all on Asgard, and in any case, they didn't carry his essence the way the crystal did. In a very real sense, Sigyn had not lost all of Loki, because she still had a piece of who he was, gifted to her by Miiran.

Sigyn swallowed. If the scry worked, she would be able to find her love, and the crystal wouldn't matter. If the scry failed, she would have nothing.

Without speaking, she got up and went to the little cell the volur had set aside for her, pulled the crystal out of its pocket next to Loki's book, and returned to Rannveig.

Rannveig's hand was steady as she held it up, awaiting her payment.

Sigyn's hand shook as she gave it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to pause and thank all my readers for staying with this fic so far, even though there has yet to be a sign of Loki. This story is the closest I've come to writing original fiction outside of fandom, and I'm thrilled that there is anyone still following along and offering commentary and encouragement. Thank you for that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn and Rannveig part ways; Sigyn continues her search for Loki between the realms.

Rannveig and the other volur conferred for a few days, while Sigyn had nothing to do but tend to Sleipnir, fret, and miss Loki with every inch of her being. When they finally performed their spell, she did not know, only that a few mornings later, she startled awake to find Rannveig standing over her.

"It's time to go," said the dwarf.

"Go where?" Sigyn sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Have you found something?"

"I am going back to my home, and you are coming with me."

"What? I'm—but what about Loki? What about your spell?"

"I'll tell you on the way. Gather your things, child."

* * *

 

They were on their way through the tunnels that led to the surface before Rannveig broached the subject. "It's important that you understand that we wouldn't ordinarily have bothered—it is the way of things that sometimes people go missing and are not found—but some of our sisters, on more than one realm, have dreamed that Loki's deeds are important to the fate of the Nine. Besides, no one can say you're not determined to finish your quest. You've earned the right to know what has become of your husband."

That was flattering to know, but Sigyn hadn't come to Dvergarheim for flattery. "Loki's deeds," she said. "That implies he is still alive."

Rannveig nodded. "Just as you hoped."

Sigyn took a shaky breath, clenching her fingers around Sleipnir's reins. "And what did you scry?"

"It has taken the entire time since you gave us that crystal to do it, but we volur used that bit of your husband's seidr inside it, and managed to scry his most recent travels."

She laughed with relief. "You did it. You really did it! Tell me what you saw."

"Patience, child," said Rannveig, though there was no heat in it. "We scried a great many things, but it took until yesterday for us to find what you would wish to know. We watched as Loki carried out a conversation with a man who is now dead, named Vig, in a hut near the shore of the Coldwater Falls. About six days' journey from here. After their speech, Loki exited the hut and vanished from our sight."

It ached that the volur had seen her love, and she hadn't. But at least her sacrifice of the crystal had been worth it. "So you think the path Loki took is somewhere near there?"

Rannveig shrugged. "Nothing is ever completely certain in this life, Sigyn of Asgard, but I am as sure of it as I _can_ be. If you find the hut of Vig the Trapper, it may be that your crystal will help you find the path Loki used, those years ago."

"My crystal? But I thought you needed it for payment," said Sigyn.

"Do you want us to keep it?" Rannveig asked, amused.

"No!" Sigyn laughed. "I hadn't thought I'd ever see it again," she added softly, as the völva held it up. In the dim light of the tunnels, Loki's seidr still glowed green, swirling gently inside the clear stone. In Sigyn's hand, it felt warm, like Loki's embrace.

"Hopefully it will serve some use," said the völva.

Sigyn nodded. "And if it doesn't?"

"Well, child, I suppose that would be up to you."

Sigyn took that in while they walked. They made way for a team of workers coming back from the surface, and walked a little ways further before she asked, "Where are the Coldwater Falls?"

"A few days' journey past my home."

She shivered. To think that she could be this much closer to Loki after all this time… "Will you come with me?"

"Only as far as my home," Rannveig replied. "Your quest is your own."

"You've been a tremendous help to me already," said Sigyn. "I can't thank you enough."

"Thanks are not repayment of a debt," said Rannveig. "We dwarfs don't hold much stock in pretty words, you know that."

"Perhaps not, but I have to acknowledge all that you've done for me. I'd have been lost here in Nidavellir without you."

"You can repay me by finding your husband, and figuring out what he's been up to all this time that would have upset volur on more than one realm. Does that seem fair?"

"More than fair. Thank you."

"Pshh, there you go again with your pretty words," said Rannveig, and Sigyn laughed.

* * *

The two women traveled together for a few days, and at the end of that time, Sigyn was sorry to leave the other woman behind.

"It would seem this is goodbye," she said as they stood in the cavern where the dwarf made her home.

"It is farewell," Rannveig corrected. "No one can predict the future completely, and it may be that you and I will meet again, child."

"But you don't think we will," Sigyn guessed.

"I think your quest takes you elsewhere, while my journey ends here, just as it ought to. But I will be here, should you ever come this way again."

"I'll remember that," said Sigyn. On an impulse, she hugged the other woman, who seemed surprised, but returned the embrace willingly enough.

As they parted, Rannveig patted Sigyn's hair and smoothed it down. "You are a good child, and a faithful wife. I think your faith will serve you well."

"I hope so."

"I also think your bravery and kindness and cleverness will come in handy as well, and possibly even that temper of yours," said the völva, smiling in that way that made her seem so much younger.

"I'm not known for my temper, on Asgard," said Sigyn. "But this quest, as you put it…"

"You grieve and struggle not to grieve," said Rannveig. "And you have faith in yourself and the rightness of your mission, but must contend with those who do not share that faith. I understand, child. But your determination is a wondrous thing, and you must keep it at all costs."

"I'll do my best."

"That is all anyone can ask."

* * *

Sigyn left Rannveig with another hug and a charm she'd crafted for good health, then turned Sleipnir's head east toward the region the völva had described to her. The land was quiet compared to the noise and bustle of Nidavellir, and the sun was brilliant compared to the lights the dwarfs used in their tunnels. They didn't need much light at all compared to the Aesir, especially with their ability to sense heat from the people and objects around them.

Dwarfs might have evolved and adapted their culture to life underground, but Sigyn was happy to be back in the fresh air. The sky was incredibly clear, the air so pure it defied description, and the trees were stately and tall. The breeze was brisk and refreshing, and the water cold and clear when she stopped to drink. The only thing she missed was Rannveig's companionship; the völva hadn't been one for pointless conversation on their journey, but she still had spoken with Sigyn, and answered her questions with good cheer.

Well. That wasn't the only thing Sigyn missed, but the ache in her breast whenever she thought of Loki had long since become familiar to her, and she breathed around it as best she could.

After a few more days, she reached the Coldwater River and checked the landmarks before turning upstream. If she were lucky, the hut belonging to Vig the Trapper should still be standing; if she were less lucky, she should at least still be able to find its ruins and guess from there which way Loki had walked.

Loki.

What could he be doing that would have seers and volur in multiple realms concerned over his "deeds"? Was it something he'd already done, and the reason he couldn't come home? Was it something he had yet to do, and Sigyn could stop him?

There was no way to know. There was no way to know, and if Sigyn thought about it too long she became too wracked with worry and fear and grief to even think straight, and she had no intention of failing her love when everyone else thought he was dead. So instead she put the worry aside, and focused on her quest. She would find the hut, then she would find the path Loki had used, and then she would find Loki. And either all would be well, or she would make it so, or they would make it so together; and then they would come home.

* * *

The hut was still standing when Sigyn found it, but only barely; one wall was completely caved in along with part of the roof, and what was left of the other walls looked none too sturdy. Still, she could clearly make out which side had once held the front door.

"I am standing where you last stood, my love," said Sigyn. She reached inside her vest and pulled the crystal out of its pocket. It didn't seem to glow any more brightly than usual, but then she knew Loki was not on this realm. With luck, the path Sleipnir was about to find for her would lead them to him.

Nervous though she was, Sigyn took time to feed Sleipnir and herself, and to check that her various charms, talismans, and amulets were in place and activated. She had added to them since coming to Dvergarheim, and she had a feeling that she would need them all.

At last, she felt she was ready, or as ready as she could be. She double checked Sleipnir's harness, tightened the girth on his saddle, and made sure that all of her bags and belongings were stowed neatly and securely.

Finally, with a shaky breath, she mounted smoothly into the saddle. "Come, Sleipnir," she said. "It's time for us to find Loki."

The horse's ears twitched at the sound of her husband's name, and he tossed his head and shook it, his mane brushing across Sigyn's hands. She walked him a bit away from the ruined cabin, then turned him back toward the falls. He had always understood her cues before; hopefully this time would be no exception, and he wouldn't decide to take them for a swim in frigid, turbulent water instead.

Sigyn could only hope that she was aimed toward an entrance to the paths, and that Sleipnir would find it. It was his ability, and not hers, that got them anywhere at all.

"Go!" she called, and leaned forward in the saddle, and Sleipnir began his charge into the unknown.

* * *

The space between the realms was as silent and strange as always, but Sigyn found herself grinning in triumph at the sight of the single track of glowing green marks in front of her. Loki had walked this path, only once, and had not returned back along it. The marks disappeared into the distance as far as she could see, before being devoured by the swirling nebulae of the void; she patted Sleipnir's neck in praise and guided him forward.

The trail went on for what seemed like hours, or maybe days. Sigyn never seemed to grow tired, but beneath her she could feel and see Sleipnir beginning to lose a bit of his usual speed, the blur of Loki's marks passing not quite as quickly as it had been. Still the trail continued, along many branching pathways, and Sigyn followed each twist and turn that Loki had taken, years before.

She rode for a very long time, yet she had no wish to leave the path before she'd come to its end. If she stepped back out into the real world, she might never find this branch again; her quest would be abandoned, and Sigyn could not bear the thought of that happening.

From time to time she saw one of the creatures that inhabited the void or the spaces between the branches, creatures that appeared to be made of pure energy, or perhaps made of seidr. Sigyn suspected that the shapes she saw were arbitrary, inventions of her own mind in an attempt to comprehend beings that were so alien they could not even truly be said to be alive.

Sigyn and Loki had seen creatures in the void before, some breathtakingly beautiful, others almost too hideous to look upon. In her earlier journeys on the other paths leading out of Dvergarheim, one of the creatures had looked right at her before moving on. Now, another approached the trail, and Sigyn took a deep breath, clutching at the amulet in her pocket that let her pass unnoticed. It resembled nothing so much as an enormous, bearded serpent made of light, with vestigial limbs that seemed to paddle through the nebulae, changing the colors wherever it passed.

As beautiful as it was, the creature nevertheless made Sigyn uneasy, perhaps because it was coming closer. Most creatures never approached the branches of Yggdrasil, for reasons Sigyn could not guess at. This one, however, sailed or swam almost directly overhead, curving in its path to disappear behind her. Sigyn almost turned to watch its passage before she remembered the immensity and horror of nothingness that she would see if she looked back.

Sigyn rode on.

* * *

She rode for days, it seemed; the hours passed unmarked in a place where time had no meaning apart from one's subjective perception. But she rode until the clouds began to look familiar to her, rode until the silence pressed on her ears and made her want to scream in order to break it. She rode until Sleipnir slowed from a gallop to a trot, to one of his odd eight-legged gaits that had no name but which he could keep up for hours at a time if need be.

She rode forward, because that was the only choice available to her, following her love's trail of magic along the branches of Yggdrasil. The path ran into other branches that she could see running through the void, but Sigyn ignored them all and focused only on the marks that Loki had made when he had last passed through.

She rode until she yearned for companionship, until she thought the solitude and the silence combined would drive her mad. She could not hear even her own heartbeat, and there were times when Sigyn wondered if perhaps she had already died and was now nothing more than a wandering ghost, unable to find peace in the realm of the dead because she was trapped between all the realms.

What would happen if she died here, she wondered? What would happen if she were injured? Would she bleed? Where would the blood fall to, and what would happen to it?

These were the kinds of thoughts that came into her head, after such prolonged, enforced solitude. Still, the only way out was forward, and Sigyn knew in her bones that _this_ trail, _this_ time, would lead her to her love.

Sigyn rode on.

* * *

It was impossible to say whether she had ridden a long distance or a short one, for days or mere hours, but eventually Sigyn came to something new. The paths, which had always been level despite their curves, seemed now to slope downward. Sigyn couldn't guess what that might mean, unless perhaps she were approaching the very roots of Yggdrasil itself. Still, Loki's path continued before her, and she was determined to find him and bring him home somehow, so she continued forward as she had been. There was no turning back on the paths between the realms, after all.

Dark though it was where she rode, nevertheless Sigyn looked up at one point to find a darker shadow passing overhead. Whether there was a creature that cast it, she couldn't say; perhaps the shadow _was_ the creature. The watchful silence that dogged her journey seemed only to grow more oppressive after it had passed.

And then the path in front of Sleipnir's hooves quivered.

Sleipnir halted suddenly, tossing his head in agitation, but Sigyn kept him from trying to turn back. He was trained for battle and, with all the earthquakes that Loki's magic had caused over the centuries, shouldn't have been fazed by a little bit of trembling ground. But Sigyn thought perhaps that this was something different.

Cautiously, she nudged the great horse forward. Sleipnir danced in place a bit before complying, and Sigyn heaved a silent sigh of relief. She did not want to contemplate what might happen if she and Sleipnir were to try and step into the nothingness behind them. The only way out was forward; it was an axiom of the branches of Yggdrasil.

So forward they went, and again the path before them quivered, as if it were a lightweight bridge over an impossible chasm, and their mass was enough to cause it to creak and sway. None of that should be possible, here.

Sigyn leaned forward and rubbed Sleipnir's neck reassuringly; if she took comfort in the touch herself, well, there was no one to chide her for it.

The way ahead of her, marked by Loki's footprints, disappeared into sudden darkness, some hundred paces out. Sigyn frowned, and wondered what it meant. They rode on, slowly, cautiously, until the darkness was only a few dozen paces away.

And then, within the darkness, a pair of glowing golden eyes opened, and looked directly at her.

The path quivered again, and Sigyn realized that this was the shadow creature she had seen earlier. It was enormous, easily the size of the earthworks that surrounded Vingólf, maybe even longer… and it was coiled around the branch of Yggdrasil on which Sleipnir and Sigyn now stood.

The thing raised its massive head, which Sigyn realized was more than big enough to swallow Sleipnir in one bite, and another pair of eyes opened above the first. The four of them blinked in not-quite-unison, but they were intelligent, aware, and focused on her.

_::A creature of matter. I have not seen one of your kind in some time.::_

Sigyn jolted as she realized that the creature was speaking directly into her mind. It felt like a pressure behind her sinuses, and made her eyes water with the strength of the sending. Loki had read to her once about the possibility of such magic, but it was not one that any in Asgard possessed, unless one counted being able to speak to others via dream-walking.

She tried to answer, but the paths swallowed her voice, the same as they ever did.

_::You could just think at me, you know.::_

Sigyn swallowed. This thing could hear her thoughts. What else of her mind could it touch? She shuddered, trying not to feel violated.

 _::Nonsense. I suppose I could reach all of you, but then I would simply devour you, and that would be tiresome. Instead I am holding myself away from most of your mind so that you are not overwhelmed.::_ Its eyes blinked again, one-two-three-four, and it lowered its head closer to her.

All this talk of devouring didn't exactly make Sigyn feel any better.

_::Devouring is what I do, little matter-thing. It is what I am.::_

Sigyn wasn't quite sure what that meant, but decided to set it aside for later. _What did you mean_ , she thought at it, _when you called me a creature of matter?_

_::Matter and energy are interchangeable. Everyone knows that. Here in foldspace, most of us are made of energy. You are made of_ _… both, I think. How strange.::_

_To us, the idea of a creature made only of energy seems strange_ , thought Sigyn. She swallowed nervously, and touched the amulet painted on her forearm. _How are you called?_

The creature tilted its head, and its coils shifted. _::No one has asked me that since I was first given form,::_ it said thoughtfully. _::I am Entropy. I am_ —the thought didn't seem to translate in Sigyn's mind, but she got a sense of— _Death/Nothing/Annihilation. I am_ _… you may call me Nidhogg.::_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn bargains with Nidhogg.

Nidhogg.

Nidhogg was real.

Nidhogg was real, and was speaking to Sigyn in this very moment. Or waiting for Sigyn to say something, which may have been worse.

Nidhogg, according to the cosmology taught to young Aesir children, was a dragon who lived at the root of Yggdrasil and gnawed on its roots. Stories conflicted as to whether or not the creature had been banished or flung there once upon a time, or if it had always dwelled in the dark spaces just above the realm of Niflheim. Most people considered it evil, but philosophers were quick to point out that Nidhogg supplied balance to the World Tree, keeping its growth in check so that it did not topple. The Nine Realms remained nine, and not dozens or hundreds, because Nidhogg performed his task and kept Yggdrasil from growing out of control in the universe.

Entropy was a neutral force, really. It simply existed.

Of course, Nidhogg was usually thought of in the metaphorical sense, the same way the World Tree was. The Aesir knew they existed, but accepted that they were more or less beyond comprehension in any physical sense.

And then along had come Loki, with his ability to walk between the realms, and travel the very branches of Yggdrasil itself, and suddenly things weren't quite so metaphorical anymore.

And here was Nidhogg, made of shadow and darkness, blinking at her in what almost seemed to be curious amusement, no doubt able to hear Sigyn's mind processing all this and trying to figure out how to deal with it.

 _::I don't intend to eat you, if that is your worry,::_ it said. _::Converting matter to energy would likely upset my digestion.::_

Had… had the Devourer just made a joke?

_::You know my purpose, little matter-thing. I eat what you call Yggdrasil. Not creatures of life, not before Ragnar_ _ök. You have interrupted me at my task, but truth be told, I was growing bored without company.::_

_But there are so many other creatures that dwell in the void,_ thought Sigyn.

_::Exactly. They dwell beyond the reach of Yggdrasil's roots and branches. I remain here, and they do not come near very often.::_

Well. The so-called "dragon that ate Yggdrasil's roots" was certainly polite enough, but if it thought that Sigyn would be its companion, it would have to think again. She only hoped it wouldn't change its mind about eating her.

_::And why might I do that, little matter-thing?::_

_Because I am on a quest and cannot stay,_ answered Sigyn. _And even if I could stay, I do not think I could survive here long enough to keep you company. It is as you have said: creatures made of matter do not live in_ _… you called it foldspace?_

 _::An explanation for another time,::_ said Nidhogg. _::Although if you are not going to stay, I suppose you will never hear it.::_

Sigyn couldn't really argue with that. _My quest takes me along this path, marked with green. It is unfortunately the path that you are, well, coiled around._

 _::That is because I intend to eat it,::_ said Nidhogg. The great shadow serpent blinked at her again, as if daring her to protest.

_Can you_ _… can't you wait to eat it? I'm not asking you never to touch this path, but I need to follow it down to where my husband waits for me. And then I need to bring him back up this same path, in order to return home. To… to leave foldspace, as you put it._

_::You could follow this path as far as it goes,::_ said Nidhogg, _::but it will not take you where you wish to go. You see, I have already devoured much of it.::_ Just as despair began to take root in Sigyn's heart, it added slyly, _::Of course, I do know where it used to lead. And I could take you there, for a price.::_

 _What sort of price?_ thought Sigyn warily.

_::First tell me of this quest. Husband means mate, does it not? I feel that from your mind.::_

_It does,_ said Sigyn.

_::And this path, as you call it; this root of the Tree. These markings were made by your mate? They give it a different flavor; I have enjoyed the novelty of it.::_

Sigyn couldn't really say how the marks were made, if they were remnants of Loki's seidr or some sort of scuff in the bark of Yggdrasil, but they persisted and she was able to follow them. _I've followed them this far, to find him. I will do all that is in my power to find him and bring him home._

_::You will make more marks upon the roots, and give me something interesting to devour.::_

_Is that your price?_ Sigyn, or rather Sleipnir, would do that on their way home anyway. Traveling the paths was what left the marks; it wasn't something done deliberately.

Nidhogg must have gleaned that information from her thoughts, because it said, _::No, that is not my price. Instead, you will give me something that belongs to you. Something which I will keep as a reminder that you were here. To entertain me when I grow bored again.::_

What sort of thing could Sigyn possibly possess, that an enormous mythical creature would want?

 _::Your memories, perhaps,::_ it said. _::Your mind makes new ones, all the time, does it not?::_

Sigyn recoiled in horror. Without her memories, who was she? Could Nidhogg take them from her without her consent? Was he even now raiding her mind and altering her personality? What if she forgot Loki?

 _::I will not take what you do not freely give,::_ said Nidhogg.

 _I will not give you my memories,_ thought Sigyn, fighting back panic. _Pick something else!_

 _::Your emotions, then,::_ said the dragon. _::Or even only one of them. I feel them tumbling about inside your mind and they are fascinating. You could give up fear, if you wanted. Or perhaps you will give me the one called anger, or the one called love. You have love for your mate, do you not? Surely he will give you more of it.::_

Clearly the Devourer had no understanding of how Aesir minds worked. _I will not give you my emotions,_ thought Sigyn. _I still have need of them myself. Pick something else._

Nidhogg shifted its massive body along the branch—or perhaps it was a root—of Yggdrasil. Again, Sigyn felt the ground tremble, and Sleipnir shifted uneasily. _::Then perhaps you will allow me to take your skill at music, or the sound of your voice. You have no need of those, here between the realms of matter.::_

Sigyn tilted her head and considered. _I will not give you those things either,_ she thought at Nidhogg. She had a sudden inspiration, and asked, _But what about… the color of my hair?_

Nidhogg actually reared back, or seemed to; it was so huge that perhaps it was only lifting its head a little way in curiosity. _::You would gift me something of your matter? I had thought to take only something of your energy, that your matter would not be harmed by our bargain.::_

_I assure you, Sir Nidhogg, giving you the color of my hair will not harm me. Is it a fair price for your aid?_

_::It is not what I would have thought to ask, but it is a worthy gift. Your need to find your mate must be great indeed.::_

Sigyn took a deep, silent breath. _It is._

_::Then come closer, little matter-thing, and I shall take you to where this root used to terminate. It carried the marks of your mate's travel along it to the very tip.::_

_Do you know what lies on the other side?_ Sigyn asked. _Where the path comes out into the world of matter, as you put it?_

 _::I know only that it is not a realm,::_ said Nidhogg. _::There are no planets there. But perhaps you creatures of matter are able to survive in such places. I am unfamiliar with your ways.::_

Sigyn thought of what she'd told Tyr, and Thor, and all the rest, so many months ago now. She would find proof that Loki lived even if she had to go to the gates of Hel itself. "Or die trying" had never been part of that vow, but Sigyn knew now, she would not return without that proof. If that meant that her quest took the rest of her days, then so be it. And if that meant that the rest of her days were few indeed, well, she would accept that too.

_::You are uncertain that you will survive. Little matter-thing, are you resolved to leave the path and return to the world of matter, even though it may unmake you?::_

Sigyn nodded decisively. _I don't want to die,_ she thought at him _, but I have no choice. I must go where my_ _… where my mate has gone. I must find him and try to bring him home. If he is dead, then at least I will know that for certain. And if I die there too… at least I will be with him in the afterlife._

_::Let us hope that you are correct, little matter-thing. Now, come closer. I shall carry you upon my brow, and take my payment when we reach your destination.::_

Sigyn nudged Sleipnir once, then twice when he refused to move. He was tossing his head and switching his tail; Sigyn could feel the sting of it whipping against her legs, though as with everything else between the realms, there was no sound. She leaned forward and stroked his neck. _Not much further now,_ she thought. It was a pity he couldn't hear her the way Nidhogg could. _You've been so good for me, Sleipnir; just a little further and we will find Loki._

Gradually, the great horse settled, and Sigyn was able to coax him to approach the dragon. Nidhogg waited patiently, but then, she supposed a universal force of entropy had little need to rush events along when the annihilation of all things was inevitable.

Finally they were close enough that Nidhogg was able to lower its enormous head, and at Sigyn's urging, Sleipnir tentatively stepped onto its snout. It was hard to tell where everything was, with a being that seemed to be made entirely of shadows and darkness, but Sigyn thought she glimpsed serrated teeth the size of her leg curving along the edge of Nidhogg's jaw. She gulped, and once again hoped that the Great Devourer wouldn't suddenly change its mind about eating them.

 _::You are not made of the sort of stuff that would sustain me,::_ said Nidhogg. Now that they were touching, its voice reverberated even more strongly inside Sigyn's head and she found herself suddenly dizzy as her mind struggled to adapt. _::Or rather, you are, but not enough of it to be worth the bother.::_

Nidhogg moved sinuously and uncoiled its great bulk in a smooth gesture that seemed to last longer than it should have. It turned back the way it had come, Sleipnir wheeling in place on the dragon's brow so that they would not have to look upon the nothingness behind them. Sigyn had a moment of realization that the rule about only moving forward on the paths did not seem to apply to the beings that lived here.

From the top of Nidhogg's head, Sigyn could see the path before them, still glowing faintly with Loki's tracks. She looked ahead, however, and saw the place where the trail simply ended, falling away into the immensity of the void. The nebulae that floated in the distance seemed to come right up to the edge of the precipice, and Sigyn shivered as Nidhogg, without pause, dropped off the path and into the clouds. She had no idea if the dragon were walking on paths she couldn't see, or slithering like an enormous serpent, but they moved smoothly through the void, the nebula parting before them as though it were water. Sigyn could feel Sleipnir trembling beneath her, but he held still at her commands, and she made sure to give him what encouragement she could while Nidhogg carried them.

It seemed only a short time later, when the dragon lifted its head and set them on another path that Sigyn could see, one without Loki's marks. She bit her lip, hoping that Sleipnir could find his way off of it and into whatever place Loki had ended up.

 _::I will take my payment now,::_ said Nidhogg. _::Be still, little matter-thing.::_

Sigyn held Sleipnir in place, with legs and reins and seat, while Nidhogg loomed over them both. Its golden eyes blinked at her again, one-two-three-four, and then she felt an icy, tingling breeze and saw only mist for a few seconds. It was hard to breathe, and she brought one hand up to cover her mouth and nose as Nidhogg's breath fogged across her.

 _::It is done,::_ said the dragon finally, and Sigyn took a shuddering breath and reached up. She could still feel her hair, pulled back into its braids and pinned up as she'd done that morning. She nodded. The rest, she didn't care about. If it brought her closer to Loki, she would give up more than this.

 _::Continue forward on this path, then take the first branching to the left,::_ said Nidhogg. _::You may exit there. It will take you out of foldspace in almost the same place as the root I devoured.::_

 _Thank you,_ thought Sigyn. _Thank you so much._

_::You have already repaid me. I shall keep the color of your hair and remember meeting you, little matter-thing. A pity we are unlikely to meet again.::_

Sigyn nodded. She wasn't quite sure what to say in farewell to an immense, mythical, universe-devouring creature generally thought of as an abomination and incarnation of evil and horror itself. "Fare well" seemed a little too small for the occasion.

_::'Fare well' is more than appropriate. Continue with your task, searching for your mate, and I shall continue with mine.::_

A small, giddy part of her mind imagined what it would be like to tell the story of their meeting to Loki once they were finally reunited.

Though it was hard to tell, given the shadows, Nidhogg seemed amused by her thoughts. _::Be sure to give your mate my regards. And tell me, how are you called?::_

 _Sigyn_ , she replied. _I am called Sigyn. In the language of my ancestors, it means "victorious"._

_::Then may you be victorious in your quest, little Sigyn. You have come far for one of your kind. I trust you will see the end of your journey without being unmade before the proper time.::_

_That is my hope as well,_ thought Sigyn.

_::It is best that you go now, little Sigyn. I am hungry and wish to return to my meal, once you have gone.::_

Right. As if Sigyn could forget what Nidhogg truly was. Without another word, she wheeled Sleipnir, who was only too eager to get away from the enormous dragon that Sigyn could _feel_ watching them as they departed.

* * *

 

Sleipnir ran for a comparatively short distance, as far as Sigyn was able to tell, before he tired again and dropped to a slower gait. That was all right, as it allowed Sigyn to keep an eye out for the first left branch. Finally she spotted it, and turned Sleipnir. He perked his ears up, sensing the end of the trail and the exit into a new realm.

It wouldn't be one of the Nine, according to Nidhogg. Sigyn only hoped that it was a place where she and Sleipnir could survive, and where Loki had survived for her to find him.

They came out onto bare rock and a sky so dark that at first Sigyn thought they were still between realms. But then she heard and felt the wind, tugging at her hair and stirring Sleipnir's mane, and took a deep breath and laughed, just to hear the sound of it.

She dismounted, her legs gone wobbly after so long in the saddle, and immediately reached for the spare feed in the saddlebags in order to give Sleipnir a treat. He was visibly tired, and had more than earned a reward for his good behavior.

The gravity was strange here, making it hard for Sigyn to find her footing as she led Sleipnir toward a nearby cliff. The stars overheard looked close, but not comforting; she was reminded of the watchfulness of the void, and wondered just how close it really was. Nidhogg had said this was not a proper realm, nor even a proper planet.

The ground around them was jagged and rough, with an unfinished look to it. It was as if a sculptor were trying to craft a world and hadn't quite found his or her inspiration yet, in the way the rock sloped and ran into itself. In some places it looked melted, in others like nothing so much as cinders and slag from a smithy. Sigyn thought of Muspelheim, but this place was nothing like that. Muspelheim was alive; this proto-realm felt as dead and barren as Svartalfheim. It was cold here, too, a dry chill that made her fingers ache.

She rummaged around in the saddlebags, trying to find the mittens she'd bought on Dvergarheim. Before she could dig them out, however, Loki's crystal slipped out of its pocket and into her hand.

Sigyn bit her lip, thinking. If what Nidhogg had said was correct, then Loki should be on this not-realm somewhere. The crystal should finally do something, with all the enchantments she had worked into it.

She took a deep breath, placed the crystal flat on her palm, and concentrated… and the crystal's usual dim glow flared to light like a beacon in the darkness.

It was not as bright as Sigyn's answering grin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn finds Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter, partially to reward your patience while I got around to bringing Loki and Sigyn back together.

Sigyn let the light of the crystal guide her, leading Sleipnir as she walked. It grew brighter and warmer with every step, and she had hope that that meant Loki was close by.

Her heart was soaring, even as she struggled to climb a rough slope. Her love was still alive, just as Rannveig had suggested, or else the crystal would not respond to his presence here, wherever "here" was.

There were strange beings floating overhead, or possibly ships, things that looked a bit like sea creatures or serpents made of bones. They undulated through the sky overhead, blocking the light of the stars. Sigyn hoped that Loki was not aboard one of them; she had no idea how she would be able to reach him if that were the case. But he was here! And she would find him soon.

Then she topped the rise and got a better view of the landscape, and her good cheer vanished.

The land was cracked and pitted, but everywhere she looked, it was also cut with trenches that met at odd angles. In and around those trenches, Sigyn could see the movement of other people, aliens unlike any species within the Nine Realms. They walked upright, yes, but at this distance, to Sigyn they looked like nothing so much as draugar, animated corpses filled with malevolence. She shuddered at the look of their bony, fleshless faces, like skulls with glowing pits for eyes.

Whatever Loki was doing in this place, it could not be good. Not given the seers' warnings, and not given his last sending, that scream of agony and despair that Mimir and Frigga and even Miiran had heard. Sigyn had been avoiding thinking about that, for the most part, but now she had to confront it: she would have to rescue Loki, somehow, from whatever predicament he'd gotten himself into. If he could have come home under his own power, he would have. It was that simple.

And now it was up to Sigyn to bring him home, instead.

She was no warrior, nor a mage like Loki, nor even much of a sorceress. She was a woman of the Aesir, and had the rudimentary training to wield a knife in defense of her home and body, but that would likely only serve her in a fight against one person, should she fail to get in and out undetected. Loki being guarded by a horde of alien beings was not something she'd considered.

On the other hand, Sigyn had her hearth magic, and a determination to get to Loki that would not be deterred by anything save death. She had her charms and amulets, which she could still feel active and tingling and warm against her skin. She had Sleipnir, whose aid could not be discounted if they were to come to a fight, and especially if they had to flee quickly. And finally, if what the seers had to say was true, she might well have the blessing of the Norns on her side.

Sigyn took a deep breath, and studied the broken terrain, planning her approach carefully. There was nothing for it. She would have to go in alone; her charms might allow her to go unnoticed, but Sleipnir was too big to conceal in such a way. He would have difficulty negotiating the trenches, and would no doubt be spotted a mile away should she try to take him over the ground. She could only hope that she could get back to him in time, or call him to her, if things took a turn for the worse and she and Loki needed to flee.

At a distance beyond the trenches stood a single edifice, or possibly a pillar of rock that had been carved into; it was difficult to tell which from Sigyn's position, but there were openings that gleamed with sallow light, so Sigyn assumed it was inhabited. It was the only obvious man-made structure she could see that rose up above the ground rather than being cut into it. Sigyn had a hunch that she would find Loki there.

She shut her eyes and brought Loki's crystal up to her lips. "Soon, my love," she whispered. She took another deep breath and exhaled a quick prayer to the Norns to watch over her.

Would the Norns even be able to see her, here at the roots of Yggdrasil and beyond the Nine Realms?

It didn't matter. Sigyn had a husband to find.

* * *

 

The trip across the plain was nerve-wracking. It could hardly be called a "plain" at all; there were pits everywhere, craters, and jutting boulders and outcrops. It was no wonder the beings who lived here had carved trenches to get around, rather than trying to level the ground enough to accept a road. Sigyn stumbled and fell more than once, scraping her knees and the heels of her hands on the sharp stone, and it was a miracle she hadn't broken her ankle after stepping into a hidden crack in the ground. The air smelled foul, which again reminded her a bit of Muspelheim, but there was less… life to it, was the only way she could think to describe it. Muspelheim was harsh, but it was a living world nonetheless. Nothing grew here that Sigyn could identify, not even moss or lichen.

When Sigyn reached the first trench, she debated only a moment before gathering her courage and lowering herself in. The idea behind her charms was to make her unnoticeable, not invisible. One more person in the trenches _should_ be easy to overlook; a lone woman staggering across the open ground, on the other hand, would stand out far too much for her amulets and talismans to be able to compensate.

Sigyn held her breath and kept her head down the first time she met one of the alien beings up close. It grunted in her general direction, but walked past without otherwise acknowledging her. She kept moving, but glanced back over her shoulder repeatedly before she allowed herself to breathe easily again.

The light from the crystal would wreck her attempts to go unrecognized, so Sigyn tucked it into her breast band with a trembling hand, and allowed its warmth to guide her rather than the glow of Loki's seidr. At each intersection she would pause and turn, first one direction, then another, and try to judge which way felt warmer. A little corner of her brain tried to find humor in the way her search resembled the children's game. "Hot or cold", indeed.

As she got closer to the building, she saw more aliens, though the trenches themselves did not seem especially crowded. Sometimes the creatures paused to speak to one another, in no language Sigyn could recognize. Not even the All-Speak could decipher their words, and Sigyn was left to hope that they were not talking about her.

Was this the sort of sneaking about that Loki did as General Tyr's spymaster? This was _terrifying_ ; Sigyn didn't know how Loki could stand it.

A burning sensation along her leg, where one of her talismans was painted, warned her just in time, and she was able to duck back out of the way before she rounded a corner and collided with a pair of aliens. They moved with purpose, and spoke in abrupt tones as they passed. Sigyn prayed neither of them would look back at her, as she hurried around the corner they'd just come from.

Whether it was the Norns' blessing or not, the trenches that Sigyn needed to take to follow Loki's seidr were relatively empty, and the aliens she did encounter all seemed to be too busy with other tasks to pay much attention to her. Sigyn's luck and her magic held, and she was able to make it all the way to the building without incident. This did not stop her hands from trembling, nor her heart from pounding in her ears.

Up close, the edifice did seem to have been partially carved from a natural rock formation, but had been added to with metal reinforcements. The entire thing looked fearsome and intimidating, and Sigyn wanted anything other than to go inside it where she might be seen… but Loki's crystal was hot against her chest and the gleam of its seidr was almost visible even through her clothing now.

Just as with the paths between the realms, Sigyn had no choice but to move forward.

* * *

 

She slipped into the building and had to stop and take several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. The light here was dim and yellow, but still brighter than outside, so she also took a moment to let her eyes adjust, and take in her surroundings without being noticed.

There didn't seem to be a lot of machinery about; if this were a prison, or a military encampment, Sigyn would have expected to see some sort of surveillance equipment, or at least patrolling guards. Once she was past the main entrance, however, the number or aliens she walked past diminished considerably. That was both good and bad; it was nerve-wracking to walk past them and hope her magic continued to work on them, but it would be harder for her to go unnoticed if she were the only person in a corridor and another alien found her.

Still, the crystal inside her breast band was nearly burning, and even seemed to have picked up a faint vibration. Loki had to be close.

Sigyn found a staircase leading down, so steep it was nearly a ladder. It led to a narrow, winding corridor where the air was warmer, and damp, clinging to her skin like nervous sweat. A single lamp every ten or fifteen paces cast feeble light on the glistening stone walls; Sigyn was tempted to pull out the crystal and use it to light her way. The entire place felt like a Dvergarheim catacomb, except for the humidity, and Sigyn expected to see corpses around every curve and corner.

Finally, at the end of the corridor was an open archway. There had been no other doorways the entire length of the hallway.

Through the archway was a chamber, and in the chamber was a stone table.

On the table lay Loki.

He was barefoot; for some reason, that was the first thing that Sigyn noticed. He was barefoot and shirtless, and as she took in the sight of him, she realized that he was also bound at wrists and ankles, waist and thighs and upper arms, and across his chest and his throat. This did not stop Loki from writhing and twisting against his bonds as best he could. The bonds themselves glistened wetly and made squelching noises every time Loki moved.

He would have screamed if he could have, but her love was also gagged, his mouth stuffed and jaws spread open by another of the glistening, slimy bindings, and he could only make stifled grunts and whimpers, like an animal. His eyes were wide open but seemed to see nothing of the room as he tossed and struggled.

"Loki," breathed Sigyn. " _Loki!"_ She dashed forward and pulled at the strap encircling his wrist. "Loki. Loki, can you hear me?"

He seemed not to.

There were tears in Sigyn's eyes now as she fought to free her love. Her husband. He was alive and suffering, and the bindings were too slick for her fingers to gain any purchase. The slime that coated them should have made them easy enough to slide off Loki's wrists, but they were wrapped tightly and the liquid stung Sigyn's fingers where she pulled. Loki's skin was red and raw wherever the bindings touched him.

After a moment, Sigyn gave up on his wrist and tugged frantically at the gag instead; if she could not free him she could a least speak to him, hear his voice. Her love, her Loki—more than once he had talked his way into and back out of trouble again; she could not imagine the visceral terror it would give him to be unable to speak at all, reduced only to making beastly, incomprehensible sounds as best he could.

It took a bit of effort, but eventually the gag did come loose, stretching and oozing slime as Sigyn pulled it out of his mouth.

"Nnuh," said Loki, panting for breath. "Gg. Huh…"

"Loki," said Sigyn, stroking his hair, "Loki, my love. Come back to me."

Her husband's eyes darted wildly, but never once focused on her.

"Loki?"

He bucked against his bonds, which squelched and stretched but did not give way. His pupils were dilated, impossibly huge so that there was only the barest ring of green surrounding them. As she watched, moisture dripped onto Loki's body and face, and he flinched and cried out again. Sigyn looked up and saw some sort of apparatus looming over Loki's body, high out of her reach, with apertures along its length and droplets of clear fluid forming at each one. The liquid seemed to absorb into his skin, and his eyes rolled back in his head for an instant before he began to struggle once more.

Drugged, Sigyn realized. Or poisoned, perhaps. There was no telling what Loki saw right now, but it was clearly nothing real.

There was nothing Sigyn could do to help him, and it was breaking her heart. Her tears dripped onto his face as she stroked his hair and spoke to him, trying desperately to wake him and bring him back to her.

No, that wasn't true. She was no sorceress, but she did have enough seidr to cast a few simple spells, and one of those was a very basic shield. It had no more strength to it than a heavy cloak to block out the rain, but it would be sufficient to keep the drugs from dripping onto Loki's body for a time. With a whispered word, a pale yellow dome flickered into existence overhead, and Sigyn settled in, speaking soothingly to her love while she waited for the effects of the poison to pass from his system.

She did not know how long she waited, but after a time Loki seemed to calm, or perhaps he was merely exhausted from his struggles. He blinked once, twice, and sighed. He swallowed heavily, then sighed again.

"…who," he rasped. His voice sounded ragged and wrecked, but if he had been screaming all this time, Sigyn was not surprised. "Who's there."

"Loki?"

Her love twitched in his bonds, blinking sightlessly. "You know my name."

"It's Sigyn, Loki. I'm here. I've come. Oh, Loki…"

"Sigyn," he said, and his rasping voice was full of longing before he seemed to gather his wits. He gave a mighty heave against the straps binding him to the table. "Lies," he said, his voice shaking now. "Lies. Get out of my head."

"No, Loki. I swear. I wish you could see me, but they've done something to you. But I'm here. I'm real, Loki," she said, and suddenly she was sobbing, unable to stop herself from resting her forehead against his bare chest. To have come so far, only to fail now at the very end, was unbearable. "I'm real."

"Prove it, creature," said Loki. "Prove it."

Prove it, he said. But how? Then Sigyn realized, all he needed was to feel her seidr. It was impossible to counterfeit, and Loki knew hers as intimately as he knew the rest of her.

She rested a shaking hand on his heart, and took a deep breath to center herself. With the barest effort of will, she pushed her seidr into him—something they had done more than once while making love, and sometimes outside the bedroom as a way to invisibly "hold hands" with their magic.

Loki gasped brokenly, his sightless eyes going even wider as his back arched into her touch. "Sigyn?" Tears came to his eyes, and he twisted his arms, stretching his hands to try and touch her. "H-how?"

She laughed, a little wetly, and sniffled as she took his hand and squeezed. "Sleipnir. And I am stubborn. You have been gone too long, my love. I've come to bring you home."

"Home…" Loki shifted uncomfortably, and again she longed to be able to break the bonds that held him down. "You cannot."

She reared back at that. "I can and I _shall_ —"

"No," said Loki. "They've done something to me. Traveling between the realms… they would find me. They could follow me. Sigyn, if you take me with you then they will have a way to follow us, all the way to Asgard."

"What?"

"It's to do with my seidr," she said. "There is nowhere they cannot find me. I've tried. Don't you think I've tried? But there is nothing… nowhere I can hide from them." His face twisted in despair, and it cut Sigyn to the heart to see. "They've brought me back here every time."

"There has to be a way," said Sigyn, but Loki only shook his head.

"I would have to—" He stopped, biting his lip.

"Loki?"

"No," he whispered. "I will not tell you. This could still be a trick."

"It's impossible to counterfeit seidr!" said Sigyn.

"But it is not impossible to break into a seidmadr's mind and alter his perceptions," said Loki. His voice, breathy and hoarse, hardened. "I will not tell you what you want to know."

It had to do with his seidr. They were tracking his seidr in some way. If… Sigyn shuddered, thinking of one possibility that would free him from his captors' grip. If his seidr were gone, there would be nothing for them to track. But that would likely kill him. Magic was so much a part of Loki, she couldn't imagine him surviving without it.

"Tell me this, then," said Sigyn, desperate to keep him with her. "Tell me where we are. Who are these creatures, Loki? How is it that Heimdall cannot see them, though they are within the roots of Yggdrasil?"

"They call themselves Chitauri," said Loki. "They are wanderers and scavengers and parasites, and I _despise_ them." He paused, and Sigyn realized he was waiting for her to prove that she was a fake, and punish him for his words. She ran her fingers through his hair and he flinched at the touch before settling again. "They come from no world within Yggdrasil and are only here temporarily. Their master seeks to plunder the Nine, and believes that I am the key to doing so."

"He thinks he'll be able to break your will and then follow you through the secret paths."

"And he is wrong," said Loki. "I may be outnumbered by his thugs, I may not best him in combat because of it, but my will yet remains stronger than his. I think it has been a few years that he has tried to break me—"

"Ten," said Sigyn. "We've missed you. It's been ten years since you left Asgard. I know not how long you've been with these Chitauri."

"Ten," said Loki. His eyes fell shut for a moment. "I had wondered."

"And I do not wish you to stay here a moment longer, my love." Sigyn felt for the knife at her belt. "What if I could cut these bonds?" she asked.

"I've told you, they would follow me to Asgard."

"So what if they do?" demanded Sigyn. "Is not the Realm Eternal the mightiest of the Nine? Could we not call upon our allies for aid?"

"Sigyn, no," said Loki. "Better that you kill me than that I lead them to the very treasures they seek most."

She studied his face, but he was still gazing blindly at nothing. "The Infinity Stones," she whispered. "You've found who was seeking them."

"Just so. And I will not be the rabbit who leads them straight back to the warren to hunt and slaughter as they please. Right now, with their technology, without my aid, it will take them hundreds of years to reach even the closest realm. They have no Bifrost and they do not have me."

 _Not yet,_ thought Sigyn, but she said nothing. She loved her husband and had every faith in him, but how long could he endure, truly?

"If you love me," said Loki, "you will end me rather than allow them to use me."

"I have a better idea," said Sigyn.

Loki huffed a laugh that held no humor in it whatsoever. "Of course you do. False creature, masquerading as my love."

" _Faithful_ creature," said Sigyn, "and Frigga named me your wife."

Loki blinked in surprise. "She did?"

"Well, Odin named you dead, and I suppose she didn't want me to be harassed into marrying another."

"Odin named me dead." Loki swallowed. "I suppose I should not be surprised."

"Heimdall cannot see you. No one has known of your whereabouts or whether you still lived since about two years ago."

"Yet you came to find me anyway."

"I could not believe you to truly be dead," said Sigyn simply. "I would have waited for you for a thousand years, my love… and if it helps, General Tyr does not believe you are dead, either. But he has no seidr, so he has no ability to see the paths between. I cannot walk them, but I can ride Sleipnir and guide him to follow where you have gone before."

"Clever Sigyn," said Loki.

"And patient. And persistent. It took many months to find the correct path you had taken." She leaned down and kissed him, though he did not kiss her back. "I cannot bear the thought of leaving you here. Please do not ask it of me."

"Sigyn, I cannot come with you. Better to give me a merciful, swift death, and return to Asgard to warn them of what is coming."

"There has to be another way!" she cried, flinching when her voice echoed in the stone chamber. Her idea would work. It had to. She wasn't sure how, but it had to.

"You cannot free me," said Loki. "These bonds are alive, in their own way. If you wound them, they grow back, and they also alert their master that they are hurt. And Sigyn, if you are truly Sigyn… you do _not_ wish to meet their master."

Sigyn ran her fingers through his hair some more. She had had a better idea, and she would use it.

"Hearth magic," she said to him, smiling. "My magic."

"What of it?"

"They may be able to follow yours, but they know nothing of mine," she reasoned. "If I were to place a talisman on you—"

"They would find it, and you would be in danger."

"What if they didn't? Do you still heal as quickly as an Aesir?"

"If I did not, I would not still be alive," he sighed, and Sigyn's stomach twisted at the thought of what he must have endured.

"Then I can hide this on you," she said, and drew her blade.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having found Loki, Sigyn must now leave him behind.

"What are you doing?" Loki twisted as the tip of her knife touched his shoulder and began to cut. "Sigyn, what are you—"

"Be still," she said. "If you cannot use your magic to escape then you shall use mine. You can slip these bonds, and then we can use Sleipnir to return home. If you do not use your magic to walk the paths, then they cannot follow it."

"Sigyn, they _will."_ He gasped and began to bleed, but she noticed that he did not twist away from her. "Sigyn, don't, you cannot—"

"I can and I will," she said again. "I did not endure all that I have only to return to Asgard without you. To face their pitying looks when they try to tell me I'm foolish to believe you still live. I will not bear it. Not when I was right all along."

She finished cutting the rune for "escape/freedom" into his flesh and pushed seidr into it as quickly as she could, watching it flare pale yellow before the shallow cuts healed over. The talisman was gone as if it had never been, but she could still feel her seidr, thrumming beneath Loki's skin.

Loki gasped; his eyes blinked rapidly, though it was clear he could still see nothing. "It's really you."

"I told you it was."

He laughed, a little brokenly. "Can you blame me for not believing?"

"No." She kissed him again, and this time, tentatively, his lips moved beneath hers.

"I have another idea," said Loki. "I'm not sure yours will work, but if it doesn't, your runes may still come in handy. Give me as many as you can, but hurry. I don't know how many hours I've been down here, and they always come back. They're trying to break into my mind."

"They will not succeed," said Sigyn. "I won't allow it." And she prepared another rune, this time on his forehead. Loki hissed as the tip of her blade scratched into his flesh, but held still as best he could. This one was for clarity of thought, and she filled it with seidr and activated it quickly.

Over and over again, her blade cut into Loki's skin, as shallowly as she could so that she did not do him lasting harm. The cuts welled with blood, but not profusely. As she worked, she cleaned the wounds with the tail of her shirt, gently, filling him with her seidr and her love.

Runes of luck and good fortune. Talismans to protect against harm. Charms for safe travels and protection on one's journey. Safety. Focus. Abundance and blessing. Victory in one's endeavors. Every bit of magic that Sigyn had, she poured into the cuts she made on Loki's skin. And her love, her husband, held still for all of it, letting his eyes drift closed, barely flinching as she covered him with runes. The work was crude and lacked most of the ingredients she would have preferred to use, but though she might not use it often, she knew blood magic as well as any other form of hearth magic, and she used it as best she could here.

She could feel her energy flagging toward the end; her seidr, pale yellow, was growing dim and flickered weakly with the last rune she put on him.

"No more," said Loki. "I can feel you tiring. You must keep up your strength."

"I can recover after we've escaped," said Sigyn.

"No." Loki licked his lips, swallowing. "You'll recover in Asgard."

It took a moment for realization to sink in. "What?"

"The bonds, Sigyn. They're alive. As soon as I try to get off of this table the alarm will sound, and I _will not_ endanger you."

"Loki, no!" Tears welled up in Sigyn's eyes, and she made no move to stop them. "Do not ask me to leave you here. I can't bear it."

Loki pulled at his bonds again, seemingly unaware that he did it. "I will not endanger you by coming with you, my love."

"Then why did you have me put all these runes on you?"

He smiled, showing perhaps a few too many teeth; it was an unnerving smile, but her husband had endured much these past few years. He was entitled to a little unnerving behavior, until he could have time to heal. "I have a plan," he said, voice shaking. "I could never have enacted it without your aid, but now that you've come… it's a miracle from the Norns themselves, and it means I may yet escape them."

"Why can you not come with me now?" Sigyn begged.

Loki shook his head tiredly. "It's too late," he said. "I can hear them coming."

"What?" She whirled toward the doorway and held her breath, and sure enough there were footsteps in the corridor, faint, but approaching. There were no other doorways in that long hall, Sigyn remembered. They could only be coming here.

"The bonds must have alerted them when I stopped struggling against them," said Loki. His voice shook as he added, "Or perhaps they think I've been down here long enough to be susceptible to their master's efforts."

"I'll kill them," said Sigyn.

"You won't," said Loki. "You can't. Please." He bit his lip again, and this time tears welled up in his blind eyes. " _Please_ don't make me watch as they hurt you. They will, Sigyn; my love, my heart, they'll hurt _you_ to make me obey them, and I'll do it. I'll do whatever they want, I'll do _anything_ to spare you."

"Loki…"

"You don't know what they're capable of!"

"Then let me get you out of here!" She almost shouted, lowering her voice at the last instant.

Loki shook his head. "If sparing you now means that I must stay here while you flee, then I will do that," he said, speaking quickly now. A single tear leaked from the corner of one eyes and trickled toward his ear, but the tone of his voice was low and urgent. "Your talismans give me an advantage I didn't have before. I will do everything in my power to come to you soon. Go. Warn Asgard. Perhaps Heimdall could see you where he could not see me. Perhaps they will be able to come for me. But even if they can't, I will do everything I can to come to you."

"Loki!" Sigyn was weeping openly now, and did not care to stop.

"Hide—hide _now_!"

There was nowhere in the chamber to go, save for beside the doorway. Sigyn's charms would hold, and the monster that came to harm her husband would be focused only on him. She would go unnoticed and she could make her escape.

"I love you," she said, and kissed him one last time, hard. Her tears dripped onto his face. Still tied down, his hand groped for hers, and she took it and squeezed as hard as she could. He matched her strength for strength, though it made his arm shake with the effort.

"And I you. Now go. Please, I beg you. Go."

Sigyn crept over and crouched down low by the doorway, praying to the Norns that her magic was still strong enough to make her own amulets work. She'd given nearly all the seidr she had to Loki. At the last second, she remembered the shield that was hanging over him, preventing the poison from dripping onto his skin. She canceled it and watched as poison spattered Loki's bare chest and face, and he flinched and hissed through his teeth.

The gag! They'd forgotten to replace his gag, and now it was too late.

Sigyn pulled the collar of her shirt up across her face to muffle the sound of her weeping, and held her breath as the Chitauri came in. There were two of them, bearing weapons, and from her vantage point on the floor, they both looked as large and strong as Thor.

Behind them came a third alien, different, wearing robes and leaning on a staff. Its face was covered, and it took no notice of Sigyn. Instead it walked directly to Loki.

"Trying to escape again, I see," said the other, fingering the strap that had gone across Loki's mouth. Sigyn was almost startled into movement when she realized she could understand its speech. "When will you learn how useless your feeble struggles truly are?"

Loki did not answer, and the other being rested its hand on her husband's stomach, then began to dig its claws in. It did not take long before Loki's sightless eyes widened and he bit back a cry of pain, his jaw clenched in a rictus of agony as blood began to flow. Above them both, more poison or drug, or whatever it was, dripped into the open wound that the other alien had made.

Before long, Loki was panting, gasping out vicious curses that made the other alien laugh in a low, rasping chuckle. "Your words are empty when we control your seidr, little godling. We have dealt with more powerful creatures than you, and in the end they always kneel. Soon," it said, caressing Loki's face, "soon you will kneel as well."

 _Go,_ she heard her love say in her mind. _Go before it is too late._

The Other set its staff aside along one wall. It placed one hand on either side of her husband's temples, and began to press inward. Loki screamed, and the sound made Sigyn gasp and cover her mouth with both hands lest she be overheard.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and it was all she could do not to leap up and kill all three of the aliens, the one tormenting her husband and the two who did nothing but watch and allow it to happen. She was trembling with the urge and with the effort of will it took to remain hidden, crouched near the doorway in plain sight if they were to but look. But they were large, clearly warriors, and Sigyn was only herself. Loki was right; there was nothing she could do to stop them from hurting him, and if they caught her… she didn't want to think about what might happen to her if she did not make her escape.

"Go!" shouted Loki, and he writhed in his bonds as the Other did something to him that she could not see.

Sigyn held her breath, and moved slowly, and ducked around the two aliens guarding the doorway. They were standing close enough together that if one of them shifted, they both would surely touch her, but Sigyn managed to make it through. The blessing of the Norns, or the good fortune she'd poured into her amulets, she would never know.

Every step away from Loki was heartbreaking agony. She could hear his screams echoing down the damp corridor, and could feel her seidr in the runes she'd carved into his bare skin, pulling as she got farther and farther away. No doubt Loki could feel her, too, because in the fading distance, she thought she heard him begin to laugh despite his pain. Or perhaps he was sobbing; Sigyn could not go back and find out, could only be tormented by the thought that her love could be so broken by this vicious creature.

And she was leaving him here, and walking away while he suffered.

Tears blurred her vision as she climbed the ladder up and out, and she staggered, with one hand over her mouth to muffle her weeping as she went.

* * *

She had climbed out of the trenches and was making her way across the broken ground toward Sleipnir's hiding place when she felt some of the charms on her body give way. She'd expended too much seidr for Loki's sake, and didn't have enough to sustain the older charms the way she had been. Ordinarily she would have taken time each day to replenish the charms, as part of her morning routine, but she'd spent so long on the paths that she'd lost track of time completely. And now she would pay the price.

She heard a shout behind her as one of the Chitauri soldiers noticed her for the first time. Without looking back, she began to run.

The ground hindered her at every turn; she fell twice and could hear steps approaching rapidly.

" _Sleipnir!_ " she screamed, as her foot found yet another hole in the ground and this time her knee gave way with a twist that had her seeing white with pain for a too-long instant. She got up, limping now, but still running as fast as she was able.

Then there was the sound of a weapon discharging, and a searing, ripping sensation in Sigyn's side knocked her to the ground. For a moment, the pain was so great that she couldn't even breathe.

When she caught her breath, it was to scream again, in terror and pain, as she rolled on her back to see two Chitauri coming toward her. They slowed down and bared their teeth in a parody of a smile when they saw that she couldn't get back up. The pain in her side was too great, and she didn't want to look to see how bad the wound was.

She brought a shaking hand up, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled for Sleipnir. If he'd already been found, the best she could hope for would be death, here beyond the Nine Realms, far from home and beyond the sight of any who would care to mourn her. They would never even know she had died.

Sigyn was panting with terror, now; one of the Chitauri stepped up within reach and raised the butt of its weapon, aiming for her head…

…and Sleipnir came barreling out of nowhere, leaping right over Sigyn to trample the alien under his mighty hooves.

Sigyn gasped and sobbed for breath as Sleipnir laid about him with teeth and hooves, rearing and kicking the other Chitauri in the face with a wet, meaty sound. More aliens were coming, but only a few, and one of them fired its weapon at Sleipnir as well, scoring his flank. Sleipnir screamed a battle cry and wheeled, putting his weight on four hooves for stability while he lashed out with the other four. The Chitauri went down like straw men; though there were five or six of them, even together they were no match for a trained warhorse, and the battle was over in a matter of moments.

Sigyn sat up and clutched at her side, crying out with pain. Sleipnir stood over her protectively, and she forced herself to keep going, grabbing one stirrup and then the saddle itself to pull herself upright. It hurt to breathe, and she couldn't put much weight on her injured leg, but finally she guided Sleipnir over to stand beside a low boulder. From there, it was easier, and she managed to use the boulder like a mounting block to get her foot into the stirrup and haul herself onto Sleipnir's back.

"Go," she panted, then cried out again as Sleipnir launched himself into a run across the broken ground.

* * *

Sigyn did not relax until they were on the paths themselves, the silence a relief if only because it was proof that they were safe from the Chitauri now. Her side felt like it was on fire, and it still hurt to breathe, but at least here between the realms, there was nothing that could hurt them.

Or rather, there was, but Sigyn felt that after having faced Nidhogg and the Chitauri, and survived, there was little else that could frighten her.

The path they were on now had none of Loki's green seidr to mark the way, and they had left from a place that wasn't even a proper realm. Sigyn had no idea where to guide Sleipnir, only that uphill would get them away from Yggdrasil's roots, and from there they might stumble across one of Loki's turnings eventually.

She gave Sleipnir his head and let him run where he would, and focused on keeping herself in the saddle gritting her teeth against the pain.

* * *

The pain in Sigyn's side grew worse, but that was the only measure she had of time passing. On their way from Dvergarheim to the Chitauri world, they had traveled for what felt like days, or even weeks. On their way out, Sleipnir ran, then slowed to a trot, then switched to one of his ground-eating gaits that he could maintain for hours. Sigyn knew he had been tired before they'd arrived on the Chitauri proto-world. She hoped that he had enough stamina to make it home, or at least back to one of the Nine. From there, Sigyn and he could rest, recuperate, or if need be summon the Bifrost to bring them back to Asgard the rest of the way.

She had no idea how long they had been traveling when she first spied the telltale green of Loki's seidr, marking the path ahead. She nearly wept with relief to see it, though, and urged Sleipnir on ahead. She was sagging in the saddle, now, barely able to keep herself upright. Her knee throbbed, her side burned, and her heart ached with loss and grief for Loki. To have come so close, only to have failed to rescue him, was nearly more than she could bear.

Still. It was not in her nature to give in to despair. She would warn Asgard of the existence of the Chitauri, and tell them that Loki lived, that she had spoken to him, and then they would find a way to locate him. Asgard would destroy the Chitauri, and bring Loki home.

She had to believe that, or she would go mad.

* * *

Sleipnir walked until his head was hanging low and his steps dragging, silent on the paths but still something Sigyn could feel in his body movements. By now she was barely clinging to consciousness herself, and spared a thought to wonder what would happen if she were to fall from the saddle here between the realms. She had no ability to walk the paths herself; likely she would simply fall and fall, forever in the void, until one of the strange creatures that dwelled here found her and devoured her.

 _That would be bad_ , she thought muzzily.

What would happen if Sleipnir grew too tired to continue on the paths himself? Would he lose his ability to tread them and fall, too? Or would he have the good sense to step off of them and back into the realms?

It seemed that the latter was the case, because, some immeasurable time later, there was one moment that they were in dark and silence, and in the next, Sigyn was assaulted by blinding sunlight and fierce heat. Sleipnir took a few more steps, and then staggered to a halt, clearly too exhausted to continue further.

Sigyn was too injured to climb down, and couldn't force him to go on; Sleipnir, beautiful Sleipnir, had saved her, had made her entire quest possible, and even if he hadn't, she was not so cruel or careless as to ride a horse to death. So she sat there, drooping in the saddle with her legs hanging uselessly like dead weights to either side of her.

"Good Sleipnir," she slurred, leaning forward to pat his neck. It seemed too much effort to raise herself back up after that, so she lay with her forehead braced against his mane, just breathing in his scent and feeling the sun beat down on her back. "Good boy."

The breeze was hot and smelled of baked earth. She had no idea even what realm she was on, but it wasn't the Chitauri world, so it didn't matter.

After a time, Sleipnir started forward again, with shambling, weary steps. Sigyn tangled her fingers in his mane, doubled over his neck as she was, and kept herself in the saddle by sheer force of will.

She never realized how close she was to losing consciousness, and never felt it when her grip eventually slackened. She felt nothing at all when she slid from the saddle and landed in the hot sand at her horse's feet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn recovers from her injuries, and friends come to take her back to Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering where Sigyn ended up after that last jaunt between the realms... now you will find out. Sorry that it's not New Mexico, although that would have been plausible as well.

Sigyn woke to pain, thirst, and the sounds of cooking: metallic clatter, a spoon tapped on the side of a pot, something sizzling over a fire. The light was red when she opened her eyes, and it took a moment before she could focus and realize she was looking at the roof of a tent. The air was hot, but not stuffy; the walls of the tent flapped and belled gently in whatever breeze was blowing outside. Some small creatures trilled to one another, back and forth, somewhere in the distance.

The roof of the tent seemed very far away. Blearily, Sigyn rolled her head toward the sound of the cooking, and saw a Muspel, facing away from her, tossing a handful of something into whatever they were making.

She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry and she ended up coughing instead. The Muspel turned around and looked her over, then came over with a cup of water that looked too small in their large hand. Sigyn sat up, hissing at the pain in her side, and drank greedily. As she passed the cup back to the Muspel with a nod of thanks, she recognized the amulet hanging around their neck.

"I gave you that," she said. "The last time I was here."

"You did."

"Your name is… I'm sorry, I don't remember it right now."

The Muspel shrugged. "Metsastaja. It means 'Hunter' in the language of my ancestors. And you are the wife of the Sky Walker."

"Sigyn," she said. "In the language of my ancestors, it means 'Victorious'."

"And were you victorious in your quest?" Metsastaja tilted their head and looked her over again. "By your wounds and lack of husband, I would say not."

Sigyn immediately flashed back to the sight of Loki, bound and poisoned in that chamber, blind, unable to believe she was real. Remembered walking away in order to save her own skin. "I found him," she said, voice trembling. "But I was forced to leave him where he was."

"A hard thing."

Sigyn did not answer, trying not to break down and cry in front of a relative stranger.

The Muspel's voice seemed noncommittal, but their facial expressions and body language were generally hard for Sigyn to read, even when she wasn't wounded and too tired to put in the effort. "We've sent word to Asgard. Now that you are awake, I trust they will send someone to retrieve you."

"I'm sorry if we trespassed. It wasn't my intention to return here."

"Mm. You didn't trespass. You were many days' travel from the oasis," said Metsastaja. "It was luck and the pull of my amulet toward your magic that found you. Still, we will be happy enough to see you gone. That beast you ride… do all the creatures of Asgard drink so much?"

Sigyn huffed a laugh, then winced again at the sharp stab of pain in her side. "I'm afraid they probably do. We evolved in a much wetter world than yours, after all."

"Hnh."

"We'll pay for the water, of course," she added.

"That is appreciated."

Sigyn waited for Metsastaja to say something more, but instead they returned to their cooking. The stove seemed to be little more than a stone box with an open front and wide, flat top. As Sigyn watched, the Muspel collected a bundle of what looked like dried dung from a nearby bin, then used the burning touch common to all fire giants to ignite it before tossing it into the open front of the stove.

"Why do you not use your touch to cook the food?" asked Sigyn.

"That takes finesse most of us don't have," said Metsastaja without turning around. "And uses up energy besides. The point of eating is to gain energy, not waste it."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"I imagine that the Aesir don't think about Muspelheim very often, except when it comes time to invade again."

"That was a long time ago," said Sigyn.

"Not long enough," countered the Muspel. They stirred the pot a little, then tapped the spoon and set it aside. "The entire time you have slept, our clan elders have been arguing about what to do with you."

"I'm sorry."

Metsastaja shrugged again. "There were those who said you should have been left to die in the wastes where I found you. Others argued that even though you did not belong here, if you died then Asgard would use that as a pretext to come and slaughter a few more thousand of us." The Muspel glanced over their shoulder, orange eyes aglow. "Odin is old enough to remember the days when we were hunted for sport by your kind."

That wasn't the history that Sigyn had learned as a girl—for one thing, the war had been in Bor's day, and for another, Surtur's rampaging across the realms had figured quite a bit more prominently—but she wasn't quite sure what to say in response. "For what it's worth, I'm grateful that you didn't leave me," she offered.

Metastaja turned back toward their cooking, and pulled a bowl from a large basket on the floor. "Mm. The elders agreed that since I brought you back, I should be the one to give you hospitality. They decided that if you die it will be my fault, and not theirs." The Muspel filled the bowl and turned back around, holding it out for Sigyn to take. "Your kind eat meat and plants both, correct?"

"We do, although some plants can be poisonous to us."

"These should be fine. It will probably taste bland. I left out every seasoning except a pinch of ash, just in case the herbs would harm you."

The bowl was filled with something that looked like stew and smelled delicious, chunks of meat and vegetables in a thick gravy. Metsastaja hadn't given her any utensils, so she brought the bowl to her lips and took a sip. "This is very good," she said.

"Not too hot?" The Muspel's lips were curved into something like a smirk.

"I can blow on it if I have to. But it might be too hot for my fingers."

"I thought as much. The flatbread is almost ready. We use that to collect the bits we don't drink."

"Some of the people of Alfheim do the same," said Sigyn.

"The elves? Hm."

Metsastaja went back to their stove, saying nothing, and Sigyn ate her stew. It was surprising, how hungry she was… or perhaps not so surprising, given what the Muspel had told her. "You said I was found several days from here?"

"I was hunting vuohet," said Metsastaja. "They wander far into the desert, looking for forage. I found you and your beast instead." The Muspel looked her over again, their glance lingering on her hair, but they didn't comment.

"I'm surprised Sleipnir allowed you to come so close," said Sigyn.

"He was exhausted. I don't know what kind of Aesir beast he is, but I know what fatigue looks like. I gave you both a little of my water, then when I picked you up and started walking, he was smart enough to follow me."

"I'm glad." She took another sip of the gravy. "Where is he now?"

"Standing in the shade or the mud, as it pleases him. Drinking our water. We had to chase him out when he went to roll in the mud."

Of course he would. "He's only trying to keep cool. This world is harsh compared to what we are used to."

"I thought as much. I also thought you would not like it if we ate him."

Sigyn sat up straighter, or tried to. "No, I wouldn't! That would be—" That would be awful. Loki would be heartbroken. After everything she and Sleipnir had been through together, Sigyn would be heartbroken, too.

"Peace, Sigyn of the Aesir. I was joking. No man of Muspelheim would harm the riding beast of another. It is against all our ways."

"Oh."

"Here. The flatbread is ready. Take care not to burn your fingers on it."

The Muspel ducked out the tent flap and left Sigyn to eat alone. Metsastaja wasn't exactly the best nursemaid in the world, but then from the sound of things, taking care of Sigyn and making sure she didn't die was something of a punishment detail. The Muspels really believed that the Aesir would come and make war on them if anything happened to her, and hoped to leave Metsastaja as a convenient scapegoat and buffer between their clan and the rest of Asgard.

Maybe today would be the start of a better truce between their peoples. Sigyn didn't know, and now that her hunger was satisfied, she was too tired to dwell on topics of inter-realm diplomacy.

Instead, her mind dwelled on the fact that she'd left Loki behind, and now she was here, worlds away, unable to help him.

Nearly a year ago, Odin had declared Loki dead, and an ache had taken up residence in Sigyn's breast, such that it hurt sometimes to breathe, and her eyes and throat would burn. Now she knew he was alive, but the ache had returned, stronger than before. With no one to see, Sigyn's lip trembled, and a single tear slipped down her cheek before she was able to master herself once more.

With a grimace and a flinch of pain, she managed to lie back down once her bowl was empty, and fell back to sleep within moments.

* * *

 

The crack of nearby thunder woke Sigyn, some time later. The light through the tent roof was still red, but she had no way to know if only a few minutes had passed, or a full day, or if the light on Muspelheim always looked the same.

She was struggling to sit up when Metsastaja ducked through the tent flap and looked down at her. "Your people have come for you," they said.

Before Sigyn could answer, the tent flap lifted again, and Sif and Fandral stepped through. Metsastaja glared at them, orange eyes burning in the dim light of the tent, but stepped back to allow them closer.

"Sigyn." Fandral beamed at her, dropped to his knees beside her pallet, and threw his arms wide; then Sif put a hand on his shoulder, and he froze and pulled back, a look of uncertainty crossing his face.

"Heimdall said you were wounded," she explained. "Your shirt is covered with blood."

"Loki's blood, most of it," said Sigyn. Indeed, the hem where she had wiped the blood away from the runes she'd cut into his skin was brown and crusted stiff with it. She could not twist to get a look at her side, but she could feel that the fabric there had either been torn or burnt away.

"You found him?" asked Fandral. He seemed incredulous. "Alive?"

Sigyn nodded, but her lip trembled again along with her voice as she explained. "I had to leave him there. And they're hurting him, Fandral, they—"

"Enough," said Sif gently. "You can tell us later. In Asgard." She reached into her pouch and pulled out a healing stone. "Can you show us where you're hurt?"

"My side," said Sigyn. "You'll have to lift my shirt. I… I'm afraid I can't get it on my own."

Fandral cleared his throat and turned away. "I'll, uh. I'll just go fetch Sleipnir, then."

The stone's magic was cold against her skin, and Siygn sucked in a breath as it did its work on her injury. When it was done, she took a deep breath, then another, relaxing into the absence of pain.

"What was this?" asked Sif. "Some kind of burn?"

"They fired a weapon at me. I didn't get a good look at it."

Sif nodded, accepting that. "Anywhere else?"

"I wrenched my knee, running away." Sigyn looked down at her hands in her lap. "Like a coward."

"You're not a warrior," said Sif. She pulled the blankets back and began carefully probing Sigyn's leg. "You're barely even armed. Running away was probably the smart thing to do."

"Loki made me go," she admitted, "but he wouldn't let me bring him with me. He said he didn't want to endanger me."

"That sounds like him."

Tears welled up in Sigyn's eyes, because yes, it very much did. "He said it would be easier if he escaped on his own, but Sif… I don't know how he can."

The other woman searched Sigyn's face, but did not answer, and after a moment went back to examining Sigyn's knee. "Healing stones only work on open wounds," she said finally. "I'm sure the healers will be able to treat this once you're home."

Sigyn wasn't sure whether Asgard would ever feel like home again.

"What about your hair?" asked Sif. She reached up and fingered a lock of it, then tucked it behind Sigyn's ear. 'Heimdall warned us you would look different, but this is… what did you do?"

"That happened on my way to find Loki," she replied. "I haven't even taken the time to look at it yet."

"It's clear," said Sif, understanding the unspoken question. "Like threads of glass. They catch the light and reflect whatever is near them. I thought your hair had gone red at first, but that's just the light here in the tent. When I touch it, the locks in my hand are colorless."

"That makes sense," said Sigyn. "I traded it for a way to Loki."

Sif just stared at her for a long moment, one eyebrow slowly climbing her forehead. "Sounds an interesting tale," she said. "Perhaps you can tell me about it as part of the rest of your journey, in Asgard. I am content to wait, now that we've got you back safe once more."

* * *

By the time Sif helped her to limp out of Metsastaja's tent, Fandral had taken another healing stone and used it to treat Sleipnir's flank. The great horse was looking a little better than the last time Sigyn had seen him, but he was still obviously tired and his ribs seemed to be showing a bit more than they should. Still, he greeted her readily enough.

"Hello, you silly creature," she said, scratching along his spine and then huffing a little laugh as Sleipnir leaned into her touch. "Are you ready to go home? Hm?"

Sleipnir's ears perked up and he whickered softly, switching his tail.

"I think he knows that word," said Fandral. He stepped up to Sigyn and wrapped her in a hug. "It's good to see you. We've all missed you."

"It's kind of you to say so," said Sigyn.

"Kind," said Sif. "It's only the truth."

Sigyn shrugged. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." She bit her lip and scratched harder at Sleipnir's flank. "I had to go. It needed to be done."

"I understand that much, at least," said Fandral. "But you didn't even say goodbye. If Heimdall hadn't seen that you were well…" He shrugged helplessly.

"I was afraid you all would just try to talk me out of going."

"You're right, we would have." Fandral stared at the top of her head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what did you do to your hair?"

Sigyn laughed again, for all that the sound was laced with sadness and pain. "It's something that happened on my quest. Sif asked about it, too."

"I suppose it's better that you tell us all at once, then, rather than having to repeat the story a dozen times."

"That would be nice," said Sigyn, "thank you." She glanced around and saw a handful of Muspels standing at the edge of the oasis, watching them. "Have you paid for the water we used up yet?"

"I didn't realize I was supposed to, but the queen gave us gold to give to the giants, in case we needed to ransom you back."

"Give it to them anyway. Water is precious here, and it would seem that Sleipnir was thirsty."

"I imagine so. Heimdall said he'd never seen the big fellow looking so fatigued."

"It was a long journey," was all Sigyn said.

Fandral smiled hesitantly, as Sif came to join them, lugging Sleipnir's saddle and other tack. "Well, it's over now, right? Now you can finally come home."

Sigyn didn't, couldn't, return his smile.

Fandral faltered at the expression on her face. "Which one of them should I give this to?" he asked, pulling a fat purse out of his satchel.

"The one nearest us," she said, relieved at the change in subject. "Metsatsaja. They're wearing an amulet I carved for them the first time I was here."

"First time?"

"All part of the story," said Sigyn.

"Ah. Right. I'll just…" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and took a couple of steps backward before turning and making his way over to the gathered Muspels.

"You've changed," said Sif, as she threw the saddle onto Sleipnir's back. "And not just your hair."

"I don't feel like I've changed," said Sigyn.

Sif just shrugged. "I didn't feel like I'd changed either, after Frigga was done with me, but I had. Don't worry about it. Just give us all time to get to know the new you, all right? Don't leave us behind as your friends."

"I won't."

"Good. Here, check the saddlebags, would you? I don't think the giants would have bothered to steal anything, but…"

"They're honorable people," said Sigyn. "Besides, there's only one thing of value in there anymore anyway." She lifted the flap on one bag, and sure enough, there was Loki's book, with all the maps of the paths between realms. She caressed the cover for a moment, then touched her breastband and could still feel the crystal with Loki's seidr in it, digging into her skin. "Everything else is just… stuff."

"Right!" said Fandral, coming up to them at a jog. "That's that taken care of. Let's get you into the saddle, unless you want to walk to the Bifrost?"

"You're _not_ taking the paths home," said Sif severely. "We're not letting you out of our sight." Then she gave a wry smile, and added, "Your parents would _kill_ us."

"My knee hurts too much to walk," Sigyn said, "but if it makes you feel better, you can take the reins and lead Sleipnir yourselves."

"We'll do that," said Fandral. "But first, up you get."

He laced his fingers together and hoisted Sigyn up. She swung her injured leg over as gracefully as she could, but couldn't help the little hiss as her knee brushed against the saddle. "I'm in no shape to go galloping off anyway," she said.

"Good," said Fandral. "Or, I mean—not _good_ , but—you know what I mean."

"Yes. I do." Her smile was a wan thing, tired and sad, but it was the best she could offer, and Fandral and Sif seemed willing to take it for what it was.

She turned in the saddle and waved to Metsastaja, who lifted one hand in return. As they made their way to the Bifrost site, the Muspel broke away from the gathered crowd and caught up to them in a handful of strides.

"Good hunting," said Sigyn. "Thank you for taking care of me for a while."

"It was little enough trouble," said Metsastaja, "and you have paid for the water your beast took. And to you, victory in your endeavors."

Sigyn had to blink back tears. Victory, indeed. She'd found Loki, but had been forced to leave him behind. "Thank you. Farewell."

Metsastaja nodded, and nodded once to Sif and Fandral, then turned and went back to the oasis. The Muspel did not look back before the Bifrost came and swept them all up, and Sigyn saw no more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn readjusts to life on Asgard, and confers with Tyr and others.

Sigyn was exhausted, but insistent on speaking to Tyr and the queen as soon as the healers finished with her. The healers, naturally, did not want to let her go, but if Sigyn had learned one thing during her travels, it was how to stand up for herself.

"Either you will release me," she said calmly, "and I will leave with your permission, or I will walk out of here under my own power, and leave without your permission. Either way, however, I am leaving."

"Your parents are on their way here," said the healer. "You've been missing for nearly a year and they've been frantic with worry, especially since they could not gain permission to use the Bifrost and come after you. Now you tell me you're going to ignore them to continue on this mad quest of yours?"

"It isn't _mad_ , and I'll thank you to stop treating me as if I were," she snapped. "Have you finished analyzing the blood on my tunic or not?"

The healer sighed. "Results are almost ready. I don't know what you intend to prove—"

"That Loki is alive."

The healer stopped and blinked at her, mouth opening and closing while she processed Sigyn's statement. "I… my lady…"

"You see now why I am feeling a bit impatient. I have physical proof that Loki was alive when I left him, and I _will_ have that proof presented to the queen herself and to General Tyr. And then we will discuss how to go about bringing the prince _home_ , and in the meantime, I should be very grateful if you would stop _patronizing me,_ and do as I have asked." Sigyn folded her arms and, though she was not known for being a fierce person, nevertheless met the healer stare for stare. "Are we in accord, or not?"

The healer either wasn't of high enough rank to dispute the prince's wife, or had actually been persuaded to Sigyn's point of view, because she curtseyed and left the room without speaking, returning a few minutes later with a fresh change of clothing, Sigyn's old, bloodstained tunic, and a scroll which turned out to contain the analysis results for the bloodstains themselves.

"Thank you," said Sigyn, gracious in victory.

* * *

 

Sigyn's parents did not want to let her leave, either.

"Mother. Father. I am well, merely tired."

"We were told you collapsed and had to be retrieved from Muspelheim of all places. Muspelheim! You could have been murdered by those—"

"The Muspels are honorable people, even if their ways are not our own," said Sigyn.

"That's not the point, darling," said her father.

"You left without saying goodbye," her mother interjected. "Do you truly expect us to simply allow you out of our sight when you've only just returned home?"

"Mother. You know that the Queen of Asgard herself named me Loki's wife, do you not? I shall do what I feel is necessary, and at the time, what was necessary was that I search for Loki because I did not believe he was dead. And as it turns out, I was correct."

Just as the healers had done, her parents fell silent.

"It isn't as if you could have hoped for a better marriage for me than to one of Asgard's princes," Sigyn pressed. She smiled then, the first she'd smiled since returning to the Realm Eternal. "Technically, I outrank you now." Technically, what they did or did not allow Sigyn to do was irrelevant, and as far as she was concerned, her work was not yet done.

"Technically I could still send you to bed without supper," said her father, one eyebrow raised, but he was smiling too.

Her mother, however, was not. "Loki was always a slippery one, defiant of the All-Father, and I don't imagine he improved after being taken in by a warmonger like General Tyr," she said. "He's gone and filled your head with all these ideas—"

Sigyn stopped smiling. "Mother. Enough. Loki and I have been in love for longer than you ever knew about, and I don't think you ever saw him 'filling my head' with anything that made me less than a perfectly dutiful daughter. I will not have you disparaging his character now, simply because you disagree with what I chose to do."

"She is worried, that's all," said her father. "We both were."

"You left without saying goodbye," said her mother, wringing her hands. "You snuck away on a stolen horse…"

"Mother!"

"Ulfeid, that's enough," said her father.

Sigyn stood up, gathering her things to go. "Mother, you know that I love you, but you need to stop making baseless accusations and hurling insults at me _and_ my husband, and either say what you really feel, or stop expecting me to listen to you. _Yes,_ you were worried. _Yes,_ I left without saying goodbye. But _no_ , I certainly did not _steal_ Sleipnir, the Muspels were _not_ about to murder me in my sleep, and I will not _hear_ any more of your hysterics when I still have work to do. Are we clear?"

Ulfeid gaped at Sigyn as if she'd never seen her daughter before. Perhaps she hadn't. "You've changed, she said finally, quietly. "You've changed, and I don't like it. Even your hair…"

Sigyn sighed. "My hair color is gone as a result of a bargain I made with a mythical being, who took it in exchange for a quicker path to Loki. I don't regret it for a moment.

"As for changing… Mother, I've always been strong enough to keep even Loki in line, interesting enough for him to find charming, and… and loyal enough to stay by his side, even when other people preferred to mock him for who he is. The only way in which I've changed is that I learned stubbornness, persistence, from the dwarfs while I was on Dvergarheim and in Nidavellir, and forthrightness as well. I did not have the time or the patience to waste by being demure, and _hoping_ that I might be given what I wanted without going after it myself."

Her father reached out and caressed her hair. "And what is it you want now?" he asked gently.

"To bring Loki home," she replied, feeling the ache in her breast once again. "I found him, but I was forced to leave him where he was." It got no easier to say those words, unfortunately, and she found her eyes burning again before she'd even finished the sentence.

Perhaps her distress was visible on her face, because her mother changed her approach completely. "Oh, my darling," she said, and Sigyn found herself swept into a hug that reminded her of the best times in her childhood—times when she felt loved, when she felt cherished, or when she felt the certainty that no matter what had gone wrong, her parents could make it better.

She took a shaky breath, and returned the embrace. "I did miss you," she confessed. "I just—"

"I know, my dear. And I am sorry. You know how I can be when I am too upset to think clearly."

"I do."

"I know that you and the prince… cared for one another deeply," said Ulfeid. She looked away at that, and added in an undertone, "even if I never really did trust him overmuch…" She shook herself and went on, "In any case, I understand. If anything ever happened to your father, well… Asgard might find itself with one more shieldmaiden besides the queen and your friend."

Sigyn laughed, though the sound was a little watery, and sniffed, blinking away tears before they could fall. "Thank you for understanding," she said.

Ulfeid held her out at arm's length and looked her in the eye. "Yes, well. The next time you are thinking of going off on a mad adventure, please tell us about it before you disappear. We—all right, _I_ —was nearly sick with worry for you. I'm sorry it's made me snappish, but when they told me you'd collapsed and then been brought to the healers, well."

"What were you supposed to think?" suggested Sigyn.

"Yes, precisely. It gladdens my heart to see you healthy and in one piece, but I can also see that you are… not quite finished with your quest, I suppose." Ulfeid sighed. "I don't like it, but I can see it's true."

"Thank you, Mother," said Sigyn. "Father. I do have work yet to do today—I truly must speak with the queen and with General Tyr—but I hope to be able to visit with you this evening. Reunite with you properly."

"I suppose that is the best we can ask for," said her father ruefully. "You've grown, my daughter."

"Thank you, Father. I hadn't noticed it myself, but now that I have returned to Asgard… everything seems different. I suppose if the Realm Eternal has not changed, then it must mean that I have."

* * *

 

"My son is alive," whispered Frigga, a few hours later. Sigyn was at Vingólf with General Tyr, and had just finished presenting her bloody tunic and the analysis from the healers that proved the blood was Loki's. Now the queen was passing her hand over the dried, brown stains as tears flowed silently down her cheeks. Sigyn had never seen her so close to being discomposed, except perhaps at Loki's funeral.

"He was," said Sigyn, "when I left him. I'm so sorry, my queen. I did everything in my power, but…"

"No one blames you, Lady Sigyn," said Tyr. In his hands was the scroll from the healers. "From your description of the place, it would have taken more than one person, no matter how skilled as a warrior or sorcerer, to rescue Loki." The general swallowed heavily, setting the scroll aside. "There was every risk that we could have lost you, too."

"You say you traveled to the roots of Yggdrasil?" Mimir leaned forward in his seat. "I would dearly love to know how that is possible. Our texts speak of the place, of course, and some sages have been able to see it in their meditations, but traveling there… well. I might have guessed that Loki would find a way to do the impossible. And then for you to follow him!"

"Tell us everything, my dear," said Frigga. "Please. There may be something we can use, to bring my son home."

"That is my dearest wish, my queen," said Sigyn. She took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

 

" _Nidhogg_." Mimir actually looked pale with shock. "You met and spoke with Nidhogg. And survived."

"He—it—seemed very polite," said Sigyn. She winced at the hoarseness in her voice, and took another sip of tea. Her story had lasted a couple of hours at least, and now her throat was sore. She could only be grateful that Tyr and the others had listened attentively while she spoke, and not peppered her with interruptions.

"It is lucky that the great beast found you interesting," said Mimir, "and that you had something with which to bargain."

"Nidhogg can afford to be generous, I suspect," mused Frigga. "As well as patient. After all, it is the embodiment of universal entropy. All things come to Nidhogg in time."

"That is what it said," acknowledged Sigyn. "And that Loki's marks upon the paths changed the _flavor_ of them, somehow. So that Loki's passing there, even though they never met, broke up the monotony for it."

"I cannot imagine why Loki would have traveled to the very roots of Yggdrasil," said Mimir. "But then, as I said before, I would have thought such a thing to be impossible. If not that, then surely very dangerous."

"He was in pursuit of a rumor about the Infinity Stones," said Tyr. "At least one is known to be stirring, and he thought that someone might be trying to reunite them."

Mimir shook his head, rubbing at his brow with weary fingers. "Always, his curiosity leads him places where others would fear to go."

Tyr took a deep breath, but said nothing in response. He glanced up in time to catch Sigyn looking at him; she knew, of course, that Loki sometimes performed "confidential" work for Asgard and the general.

"Was this search your idea, General?" she asked.

An expression of surprise, perhaps at her audacity, flickered across his face before he sighed. "No. Though I did not discourage it. Asgard could ill afford to be caught unawares if the Infinity Stones are moving once more."

"And have you ever heard of a people known as the Chitauri?" asked Frigga.

"I have not, my queen. Loki's description of them as parasites should serve as ample warning, however."

"With respect, my lords, my queen," said Sigyn, "I care little for the Chitauri. I am sure that Asgard could face the threat they pose and deal with them easily. What I care about is that Loki is still there, and still alive, and unable to escape. We must mount a rescue, somehow, and bring him home."

"But how?" asked Mimir. "Heimdall could not see you after you departed Dvergarheim. Wherever you came out from those hidden paths, you said Nidhogg told you it was not even a proper realm. How are we to aim the Bifrost at a location we cannot see? How are we to mount a rescue against unknown forces, with unknown weapons and abilities? All we do know is that they can somehow affect Loki's seidr, and track him down by it whenever he does try to escape."

"Loki hinted that… that the only way to break their hold over him would be to drain his seidr to nothing. So that there was nothing for them to hold onto." Sigyn looked at her hands, still clutched around the mug of tea. "But I fear that at that point he would already be dead, and it would be too late for him to escape anyway."

The gathered elders were silent in the face of her statement, which did nothing to help her mood. "I should not have left him there," she said. "I should have found a way—"

"Sigyn, enough," said Frigga. "From all that you have told us, my son was not held in a manner from which you could have helped him to escape. He encouraged you to go, after you gave him all the aid that you could. You did not fail in your duty to your husband."

"Forgive me, my queen, but I did not go to seek him out of a sense of _duty._ I care little about duty _,_ when my love is still trapped there and I might have been able to do more."

"No," said the general. "No, I think you were able to do more for him than any of us could have. You found him, when the rest of Asgard had given him up for dead."

Mimir nodded. "You gave him your hearth magic, when he cannot use his own."

And Frigga said, "I have not yet scried for him, because I believed him lost to us forever. But I feel something, even now. I believe it is very possible that Loki will be able to return to us, because of all that you have done for him, Sigyn."

That was certainly hopeful news. "Truly?"

"I cannot be certain, my darling. Nothing is ever certain about the future, and what is certain can never be revealed. But I do feel something, and I am encouraged."

* * *

 

Over the next several days, Sigyn rested, and moved some of her belongings to Vingólf and into Loki's chambers, since they were now officially hers as well. Her parents, especially Ulfeid, fretted over this, but understood her need to be near Loki, even if only by proxy. She appeased them by visiting each day for an hour or so, and speaking with them at night before she retired.

The rest of the time, she kept to herself, or took care of Sleipnir. She'd grown accustomed to relying only upon herself, and it felt strange to be back in Asgard and surrounded by people who wanted to do things for her, or spend time with her, or help her through her worry. They made her feel as though they thought she was some sort of fragile maiden unable to handle grief or loss, or even hope. Sif and Fandral were the easiest to be around, but even they behaved that way, and after a while it became tiresome. It was easier, then, to spend her days in solitude, in Loki's chambers, and refuse to see anyone while she studied more hearth magic, trying to find something that might have helped Loki to escape.

A month passed, and Sigyn repeated her story to Fandral and Sif, to the general and some of his top officers, and once even in the presence of Heimdall and the All-Father themselves. These high-ranking men all debated, and asked her many questions, and debated some more, and Sigyn tried to take heart. At least they were trying to figure out a way to bring Loki home, even if they had yet to do anything other than debate.

And then the day came when Loki's study fell silent. She hadn't noticed the sound of the Midgardian timekeeping device, ticking away in the background as she read, until it simply stopped, between one moment and the next. Sigyn stood and looked at it with growing horror, remembering how it was Loki's magic that had kept it operating all these years. She pulled out the crystal containing the little bit of Loki's seidr, which she had had turned into a pendant so that she could keep this little piece of him close to her heart.

The crystal no longer glowed green, nor swirled with her love's energy. It was simply a clear piece of rock, now.

"No," she whispered. Tears welled up, and she could not stop them, as her knees buckled, there before Loki's work table. "No."

She forced herself to stagger to the door of their chambers, and checked the wards that Loki had placed, centuries ago. As long as he lived, she knew, the magic would hold, and the doors would only open to those that he, or she, permitted to enter.

The wards were gone.

There in the corridor of Vingólf, Sigyn dropped to her knees and wept at the loss of her first and only love.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's journey ends, and General Tyr's begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of marks the beginning of "Part II" of this story, which is more focused on the events of _The Avengers_. As such, it was a little difficult to write as I tried to figure out the transition. I hope I succeeded.

It was a few minutes later that Hoenir found her, hurrying as quickly as his aging legs would take him up the stairs to the private apartments.

"Mistress Sigyn!"

"He's gone," she sobbed. "His magic. It's gone, it's all gone, it's gone…"

"No, Mistress Sigyn! He's alive!"

Sigyn jolted as if she'd been slapped, looking up at Hoenir from her knees. Tears still rolled down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. "No," she moaned. "No."

"The general just received word from Heimdall himself," Hoenir insisted. "He _saw_ the prince, for the first time in all these long years that he's been missing. Master Loki is alive. I swear it."

"But his magic…" Sigyn looked around helplessly, seeing the doors looking naked to her inner eye, without the presence of the wards he'd placed over centuries of residence in the palace. "His wards have vanished."

"Aye, young mistress, I see it too. That, I cannot explain. But the general sent me to fetch you, that you could hear Heimdall's message yourself."

Hoenir reached out a hand and helped her to her feet, while she blinked and swayed and wiped at the tears collected on her chin. "Give me a moment, Hoenir," she said. A quick cleansing spell erased the tear stains from her face, and she ran her hands nervously down the front of the tunic she was wearing. One hand still clutched the pendant, empty now of Loki's seidr; she ran the other across her hair, trying to smooth it down and make herself presentable. Or, more presentable, at least: home for only a month, she still had not returned to wearing the gowns that were proper for one of her station; had not yet gotten out of the habit of wearing modified traveling garb. She hoped that would prove to be an omen now.

Three deep breaths, and she was as ready as she would ever be. "Thank you, Hoenir. If you would show me to the general, please."

"Of course, young mistress."

The old servant led her to General Tyr's study, where he sat speaking to an image of Heimdall that floated within a round mirror the size of a dinner plate. "These are grave tidings," he was saying. "I shall have to consult with my men and with Mimir in order to determine what they may mean."

"Of course, General," replied Heimdall. "Rest assured that I shall not let our prince out of my sight, now that he has returned." His image nodded to her as she came into his line of sight. "Lady Sigyn, congratulations. It would appear that you were able to be of significant aid to His Highness, after all."

"How do you know that?"

"I have no evidence save that His Highness is on Midgard, and has not attempted to hide himself from my sight since first appearing there. The timing, too, is suggestive. I believe that your efforts must have been a factor in his escape." He nodded to her, and then to Tyr. "I must give my report to the All-Father as well, now that I see that he is available for communication."

"Of course," said the general. "Keep me apprised." The image winked out, and he gestured for Sigyn to sit. "So, you know the beginning of it."

"If Loki is on Midgard, then I must go to him," she said.

"I am afraid that will not be possible," said Tyr. "Not yet."

"But he is my husband!"

"And he is my son," Tyr acknowledged with a nod, "but there are other factors at work here that you do not yet know. Loki… in your report you said that the Chitauri were trying to break into his mind. Is that correct?"

"…Yes." Cold fingers of dread trailed down Sigyn's spine. "Is there cause to think that they succeeded?"

"I am uncertain. But he arrived on Midgard in the same chamber as the Tesseract—"

"One of the Infinity Stones."

"Yes, and proceeded to kill or harm many of the humans there, without apparent provocation."

Sigyn gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth. Of course she knew that Loki had killed before, it was sometimes necessary in his work, just as it was necessary in war. But those who knew of his activities knew that he very rarely killed someone without cause.

"He subverted the willpower of several," the general was saying, "with a weapon I have never seen him carry before. Then he stole the Tesseract and escaped, with the aid of the subverted men and women, and the facility collapsed under the unstable energies left behind by his appearance."

"I don't understand," said Sigyn. "This—this is not like him at all."

"Indeed not. I will advise the All-Father that we should wait a few days to see what Loki is up to before we interfere. It is possible that this is all part of a ruse, but if so I cannot fathom the true intentions behind it."

"He must know we have been hoping for his escape… perhaps he seeks only to draw our attention?"

"By killing humans?"

Sigyn shook her head. "No, that makes little sense to me either."

"But you see why you cannot go. If these Chitauri have succeeded in breaching the barriers of Loki's mind, then it is dangerous for anyone to get too close to him. I would not risk you, and if he were in his right mind, he would not wish you to be placed in harm's way, either."

She nodded. "I don't like it, but I understand." Sigyn nodded, and looked at her hands. "It seems as though my quest to retrieve Loki has ended, and now it is your turn to take it up."

Tyr stood and stretched, as Sigyn rose to her feet as well. "I will be certain to keep you apprised, just as Heimdall does me, to the best of my ability," he said. "However, there may be things I cannot tell you. With one of the Infinity Stones involved, it is likely that Asgard will be required to respond in some official capacity to the threat, and even though you are his wife, you are also a civilian. There will be things I cannot discuss with you."

"I understand. I am grateful that you will include me even this much."

"I will include you as much as I can, make no doubt of it." Tyr took her hands and squeezed them gently. "For now, I go to consult with the All-Father. There is much to be decided, and it is likely that there will be little time to act, when the time comes."

And Sigyn was left to wait, wringing her hands, as the general ushered her out and headed for the stables.

* * *

 

"What do we know of the Tesseract?" Tyr asked, pacing the All-Father's study.

"I assume you know it is likely to be an Infinity Stone," replied Odin. "You wish for more specific information?"

"What have the humans been doing with it recently, and what did they hope to achieve?"

"They remain a primitive people, still squabbling among themselves," said Odin. He looked to Heimdall, who took up the thread.

"They war with one another, unaware anymore that other inhabited worlds exist. Those humans in possession of the Tesseract, both now and seventy years ago, have only seen it as a power source and sought to make weapons with its energy."

"Wasteful," said Odin.

"They know no better," said Tyr, "largely because you have not seen fit to educate them."

"What little they know of Asgard is now shrouded in myth and legend," agreed Heimdall.

"Could Loki mean to protect them from themselves by taking the Tesseract away?"

The Gatekeeper shook his head. "That does not appear to be the case. Those whose will he has suborned work together to create a machine that harnesses the Tesseract's true capabilities."

"He means to open a portal," said Odin. "To where?"

"The Lady Sigyn claimed that the Chitauri were trying to break into Loki's mind," mused Tyr. "And that they knew a way to track his magic and keep him from escaping them."

"You believe they succeeded," said Odin.

"I fear so," replied Tyr, "and if I am right, then I fear for us all."

* * *

 

Thor traveled to Midgard, on Odin's orders. Tyr observed, taking his reports from Heimdall and learning about the humans, watching carefully to see how well Thor was able to manage his mission and whether or not help would be needed.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear that the orders Thor had received were more concerned with retrieving the Tesseract before it could do any damage than they were with aiding Loki. Tyr watched with increasing agitation as Thor approached the mortals who had captured Loki… and then attacked them.

What was he thinking? And then afterward, when he had Loki in his custody, to offer him nothing but threats?

"The Chitauri have broken Loki's mind," said Odin, when Tyr confronted him. "He did not escape them and flee to Midgard; they caused him to use his magic and sent him there, to the Tesseract. We know he labors to open a portal with it; it is most likely that he wishes to bring the Chitauri into Yggdrasil. To Midgard, which is even worse. We cannot expect him to behave as an ally to Asgard any longer, and we cannot treat him as one."

"Ally? He is no _ally_ , he is Asgard's second prince!"

"And your son, yes, I know. You see him through the lens of your own biases toward him."

"No. I am merely unwilling to abandon him as readily as it seems you are."

"The Tesseract cannot remain in Loki's hands, nor in the mortals' any longer."

"So be it, but that does not mean we turn our backs on Loki the first time he's ever taken prisoner and tortured into compliance! He needs our help, not our threats!"

Odin's eye narrowed in speculation. "What do you have in mind?"

"I thought it was obvious, All-Father. I intend to go after Loki. And the Tesseract. From what I've seen, Thor is not yet ready for the sort of diplomatic intricacies such a mission may require."

"The mortals do not warrant diplomacy. We take the Tesseract, leave their world, and within a handful of years they will forget we were ever there."

"Aye, you take the Tesseract. And what of Loki? Do you leave him to his fate at the hands of humans who have no idea what has happened to him?"

Odin said nothing.

Tyr shook his head. "Set the matter of Loki aside, then, and look only at Thor's mission. With an attitude like the one you have just outlined, he is destined to fail. The humans may be primitive, I'll grant you, but they are still numbered among the Nine, and are worthy of respect. Furthermore, as you have said, the Chitauri will come to their world first, if we do not do something to stop them. The humans have the right to be informed of the danger."

Odin sighed. "So be it," he said, with a resigned wave of his hand. "But if Asgard loses the Tesseract because of your interference, the consequences will fall on your head."

* * *

 

Midgard.

The realm was as old as any in the Nine, but its people were short-lived and fragile compared to the other races. It was the central realm of Yggdrasil, which meant both good and bad things for its people. Good, in that most of the other eight realms had been accustomed to sending people there for convenient trade or for neutral ground for negotiations, and had mingled among the humans and become part of their lore. Humans had learned from all the races and were famously adaptable and inventive as a result. Bad, in that the realm was strategically valuable, and more than one war had been fought by would-be conquerors who wanted to claim its territory for their own. Finally the All-Father had led Asgard to victory in those wars, and then to prevent further destruction and loss of life, had immediately decreed that Midgard would be off-limits, barred from interaction with the other eight realms. In all the thousands of years since, only a handful of individuals had dared to defy the decree; those who were caught were made examples of, clearly demonstrating to the rest of Yggdrasil that Odin had earned his position as All-Father of the Nine.

So the humans prospered on their own, without interference from the other realms, but as time and mortal generations passed, their history became regarded as legend, and then as myth. The humans alive today remained ignorant of their place in Yggdrasil, entirely unaware that they were not alone in the universe.

And now Loki, Thor, and Tyr were violating Odin's decree, two of them at Odin's own command. The diplomatic repercussions once the other realms discovered that Asgard had seen fit to ignore its own edicts were potentially disastrous.

Repercussions or not, Tyr would not be deterred. His son was in danger, and the humans were short-lived enough that they had forgotten nearly everything they ever knew of the other races. Between Loki's mad attack on their base and Thor's ham-handedness, Asgard was utterly fouling up what amounted to modern humans' first impressions of alien life in the universe. It would be up to Tyr to smooth things over, if he could, if he had any hope of achieving both his and Odin's aims.

Hoenir handed him his cloak, and Tyr swirled it around to settle across his shoulders, then pulled on his gloves as Hoenir adjusted the clasps.

Mimir stood in the doorway, his white braid gleaming in the lamplight. "Are you certain you will not need me on this journey of yours?"

"I'm not at all certain, no," said Tyr, "but we are already violating an ancient pact by sending even myself and Thor to retrieve Loki and the Tesseract. If the humans permit it, though, I may send for you later. Your skills may be needed to bring Loki back to himself."

"I suppose that will have to do."

There was a knock behind Mimir, and he stepped out of the way to reveal Sigyn.

"I know I cannot come with you," she said. "It breaks my heart, even though I understand why it must be so. But I cannot let you leave without offering what help I can."

Mimir and Tyr both looked at her curiously. "What did you have in mind?" asked the general.

In answer, Sigyn held out her hands, revealing a pair of carved bone talismans etched with runes and hanging from simple leather cords. Mimir's eyebrow lifted, and Tyr's silver hand began to itch at the strength of the magic imbued in them.

"They're only hearth magic," she was saying, "but I gave them everything I could. This one is for you, and the other is for my lo—for Loki, should you find him."

"At last report, Thor had found Loki and aided in his capture," said Tyr. "It is possible that I will be able to give this to him sooner than you had hoped."

There were tears shining in Sigyn's eyes, but they did not fall. "That would be pleasing to me."

Tyr stepped forward and allowed Sigyn to drape the leather cord around his neck. He took a breath, and felt… refreshed. Energized. As if he'd had just woken from a perfect night's sleep. "What did you do?"

"A little of everything," said Sigyn. "Luck on your journey, health and healing, success in your endeavors, and so on."

"These seem unusually potent for hearth magic," remarked Mimir.

"I'm not much of a sorceress; I don't have a large reservoir of seidr, but I put as much of my seidr into these as I could. And of course, the better I know a person, the stronger I am able to make the enchantments themselves. There is the physical tie as well. For yours, General Tyr, I collected a few hairs from your pillow with Hoenir's help, burned them, and passed the amulet through the smoke. For Loki… well, I had a recent blood sample."

"I am surprised that you never took up the vows of the volur," said the old sorcerer. "You have impressive skill."

"You're very kind, Master Mimir, but I'm afraid that by the time I was of an age to consider training with the priests, my heart was already given to Loki. And I would not give him up for all the magic in Asgard." She passed Loki's amulet to Tyr, who tucked it inside his breastplate where it would be safe. "Good luck, General."

"You have my thanks… daughter-in-law. I shall do everything in my power to bring Loki back to you."

She stepped forward and embraced him then, armor and all, and Tyr took a moment to stroke her hair. For all that she and Loki had done and seen, they were both still so young.

Then with a bow and salute to each of them, he turned and left his chambers, stepped into Vingólf's courtyard, and climbed into the skiff that was waiting to take him to the Bifrost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now there will be a pause as I go back and read the fics I wrote from before _Civil War_ , back when I liked all the Avengers and that stupid movie hadn't ruined everything for me. It turns out that I've been in all these original worlds with original characters like Sigyn and Tyr for so long that I'm finding it a real challenge to come back to writing Marvel's characters! I had not expected that to happen. (I still blame _Civil War_.) I need to take a couple of days to get back into those characters' heads so I can write them properly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyr comes to Midgard.

Just once.

 _Just once_ , Fury thought, _it would be nice to have a normal goddamn day._ Terrorist attacks, he could handle. Extracting an agent from a mission gone wrong, he could handle.

A top-secret project attracting the wrong kind of attention… he could handle eventually, once he had all the variables under control.

A motherfucking alien invasion… he _would_ handle, goddamn it, but it would be nice if his people were to get their heads together and tell him precisely how.

"I am not your enemy!" the latest space alien was shouting, pacing back and forth in the interrogation room where Coulson sat calmly behind the desk. "But the Tesseract does not belong to you and I _will_ return it to Asgard."

"We have no evidence that the Tesseract, as you call it, belongs to you, either. And after your little display in Germany, we have very little reason to trust anything you have to say."

"I came here to stop Loki!"

"You removed Loki from our custody when you attacked our vessel without provocation," said Coulson. "And then when we tried to retrieve him, you attacked our team with deadly force. If they weren't above and beyond the usual grade of soldier, you would be answering for their deaths right now."

The alien calling himself "Thor" folded his arms and looked away, looking for all the world like a pouting linebacker. "I had hoped to complete my mission quickly and return home with as little impact on your world as possible."

"And what is your mission, exactly?"

"I have already told you this."

Coulson nodded, and leaned forward in his seat, the picture of fascinated curiosity. "How about you tell me again."

Fury turned away from the feed in disgust. "Any sign he's in league with Loki?" he asked Agent Romanov, who stood perfectly still, studying the alien's movements or facial expressions or whatever it was she did to read people.

"I think there's a connection there. Certainly they both want the Tesseract, but he was seen threatening Loki when Iron Man caught up to them."

"So what's your take?"

Romanov raised her eyebrow and turned finally to face Fury. "They know each other. They were conversing before Iron Man tackled Thor. Both of their names come from Norse mythology, and the kicker is that both Rogers and Stark reported that Thor's weapon is capable of a massive electrical discharge. Large enough to qualify as actual lightning."

"Please do not tell me we're dealing with mythical beings, Agent Romanov. What's next, we're gonna get a fucking unicorn show up and start prancing around?"

In the next second, Fury was seriously contemplating throwing his own ass into the brig, because he knew better than to invite trouble by opening his big mouth like that.

 _"Sir?"_ Maria Hill's voice came in his earpiece.

"What is it, Hill?"

_You may want to come to the bridge. There's_ _… an anomaly."_

An anomaly? That was all she was going to say over the channel? "On my way."

* * *

 

"Describe this 'anomaly' for me, Hill," he said, striding through the archway leading onto the bridge.

Hill met him halfway, shoving a tablet at him as they walked. "We have a storm boiling up in front of us, sir, at about fifty thousand feet."

Fury stopped in his tracks and leveled a mild glare at her. "You called me up here for a storm."

"It's coming out of nowhere, and meteorology says it's not behaving the way normal storms do. For one thing, it's building from the top down rather than the bottom up, and the jet stream isn't moving it at all. For another, radar suggests it's forming a vortex."

"A vortex." Sounded like another word for "portal" to him. "I assume we're already taking measures to avoid it?"

"Of course, sir, but given everything that's been happening, we thought it worth mentioning. Just in case it turns out to be another portal, we've already got all forward guns aimed at the center of the vortex, and we've scrambled the pilots."

Fury nodded his approval. "Looks like now we just wait and s—"

There was a crack of thunder so loud that they could hear it even through the reinforced glass of the bridge windows, and a beam of multicolored light from the center of the storm system lit up the flight deck outside for several seconds. Several of the bridge personnel ducked down behind their desks. Fury was pretty sure they had the right idea.

When the light faded, there was someone standing out there, no safety harness, no cable, and no oxygen mask despite the high altitude. They were wearing a cape that snapped and billowed in the fierce wind, and holding one arm up to shield their face. Around them, the asphalt of the flight deck appeared to have been burned in an intricate, circular pattern; in places the pavement was still smoldering, the smoke obscuring the newcomer's feet.

_"Security breach on the lower flight deck. Repeat, security breach on the lower flight deck. Strike Teams Alpha and Gamma to Airlock Three. Strike Teams Beta and Epsilon to Airlock Two. Security breach on the lower flight deck_ _…"_

And as the announcement repeated over the intercom, all Fury could think was, _God damn it, there's another one._

The stranger—oh hell, call him what he probably was—the _alien_ looked around for a moment, getting his bearings, before walking to Airlock Two. Fury called up the nearest security feeds and watched as the guy calmly crossed the tarmac, a feat which should have been impossible. A human would be suffocating at this altitude, and if they were wearing an oxygen mask, the strength of the wind should have flung them off the side of the carrier. This fellow just leaned into the wind like it was a regular blustery day back home, and headed for the airlock.

"Is that a _sword?_ " asked Hill, leaning past him to peer at the feed. "Is he actually wearing a sword?"

"Goes with the armor," said Fury. "Let's hope he's not inclined to use it. Although given the way both Loki and Mr. Not Our Enemy have behaved, I'm not holding very high expectations."

At the airlock, the alien didn't draw his sword and start hacking at things. He tried the handle, then when that didn't work, banged on the door with his fist a few times, and then waited. Holding the hood of his cloak (yes, he was wearing a motherfucking cloak like some Renaissance Faire reject) over his mouth and nose, he took a moment to look around and spotted the nearest camera trained on him… and nodded as if in greeting. Or approval, maybe, who the hell could tell with aliens. Still looking into the camera, he pointed at himself, then the door, and then seemed perfectly content to settle in and wait until somebody let him in.

Fury sighed. "Beta, Epsilon," he said into the comm, "single intruder at Airlock Two. _Apparently_ non-hostile, but proceed with caution. Open the airlock."

* * *

 

Tyr waited, wondering how long it would take the humans to come and open this door, or if they would decide to leave him out here instead. After the mess Thor had made of things, and the impression both he and Loki had to have left, Tyr wouldn't put it past the mortals to do exactly that. Nor would he blame them if they did. They had probably expected him to attack the first thing that moved, rather than search out the surveillance devices Heimdall had described and try to communicate with them.

It was only about a minute, however, before a red light over the door turned green, and the wheel in its center began to turn. Tyr stepped back and waited, and the door opened with a hiss he could just barely hear over the roar of the wind. Inside was a tiny chamber with an identical door on its opposite end, filled nearly to capacity by six people wearing masks; two kneeling, and the others standing in formation, all of them with projectile weapons pointed at him.

Well, that was about the reception Tyr was expecting, all things considered. He kept his free hand visible and away from his sword, and stepped inside.

One of the kneeling soldiers got up and sidled past him to close the door, and Tyr watched with interest as she spun the wheel to seal it, then pressed a series of buttons on the inner wall. There was another hiss, and Tyr felt his ears pop as the air pressure inside changed. After a few moments of tense silence, the light over the far door changed from red to green, then the wheel on that door began to spin.

Tyr nodded in understanding. That explained why none of the humans had come outside to greet him after the Bifrost had retreated. They were too fragile to survive in such thin atmosphere. Still, they were inventive enough to make machines that carried them as high as they needed to go. It was impressive.

"State your business," said one of them, from behind his mask.

Tyr slid his hood back so his face was visible to them. "My name is Tyr Hymirsson, Chief General of the armies of Asgard, and I would speak with your Director Fury. I have information for him that will be vital to the success of his mission and mine." The humans glanced at one another, and Tyr guessed that they were wondering how he could know the name of their leader when he'd never set foot on their planet… or at least, not in their lifetimes. "I assure you, my intentions here are peaceable. Your people and mine share a few goals in common, and could work together to achieve those aims."

"You'll have to surrender your… sword," said the soldier.

Tyr sighed. He'd expected it, but it was hard not to feel naked without a weapon hanging from one's hips. "Of course." Without fanfare, he began unbuckling his belt, wrapping it around the scabbard so it wouldn't tangle. "I'll expect this back… in its current condition," he said, offering it to the nearest soldier.

The man shook his head. "I don't think so. Set it on the floor and step back."

Tyr raised one eyebrow. Thor must have made quite the impression, indeed. Even so, he looked over his shoulder rather pointedly to show them the door he was still practically touching. "Step back to where, precisely?"

Before the soldier could answer, the inner door opened, and Tyr spotted a man matching Heimdall's description of the director, alongside several other men and women, one of whom was dressed in an outlandish outfit with vertical stripes across his belly and a star upon his chest. Most of them also had weapons, but Tyr counted it as an improvement that so far none of them were aimed at him.

"Are you Director Fury?" he asked.

"I am," he said, "and I am also really curious to know how you knew that."

One corner of Tyr's mouth quirked up, and he replied, "I took a bit more time to prepare for my visit here than Thor did."

"Or Loki?"

Tyr's smile fell. "Loki is something of a special case. He is the reason I have come."

"Yeah, I figured that."

The soldiers fell back at a gesture from the director, and surrounded Tyr and Fury as they walked down the corridor. No one had yet dared to come forward and take Tyr's blade from him, but they must have decided he was not enough of a threat—one man with a sword against over a dozen with projectiles—because the man, Fury, merely glanced at his scabbard and back to Tyr's face as if trying to determine how likely he was to use it, then turned and led their procession up and away from the entrance.

"Thor and Loki both got right to the point about how much they wanted to take the Tesseract from us. I notice you're not doing that."

Tyr sighed again. "Thor is… young. And not well versed in diplomacy. I would speak with him, with your permission."

"We might be able to arrange that," said the director. "What about Loki?"

"Loki is complicated. There is more going on with him than the surface may have revealed."

"So un-complicate it," said Director Fury. One of his attendants opened a door and let them into a large room dominated by a table and several chairs. A council chamber, if Tyr did not miss his guess. A few of the other humans took seats around the table, while the rest took up guard positions outside. Fury took the chair at the head of the table; Tyr wondered what sort of message it might send for him to sit at the foot.

No matter. He had little patience for such games of oneupmanship, if that's what this really was. He sat, propping his scabbard along the side of the chair, and ordered his thoughts.

"According to our observations, you, Director Fury, are responsible for gathering intelligence for your people, and occasionally sending them to perform tasks that might be… frowned upon, by general society, despite their necessity. Is that not so?"

"More or less," said Fury. "Why?"

"We have something in common," replied Tyr. "Every realm requires people who understand the necessity of such work. Who are practical and honorable, even if they would not meet most people's definition of the term. In Asgard, Loki was one such person."

"Was."

Tyr took a breath. "About ten years ago, he caught a rumor that an unknown power might be attempting to gather the Infinity Stones, fantastically powerful artifacts of which the Tesseract is but one."

"There are _more_ of them? Jesus," muttered one of the men at the table.

"Indeed. Loki sought to determine the veracity of the rumor, and try to prevent such a thing from happening if he could. He never returned from that mission." Tyr could not prevent himself from clenching his fists, though he relaxed them immediately. "Our last communication with him, two years ago, indicated that he was in grave danger, but we could not determine where he was in order to mount a rescue. Then, about a month ago, he was found: a prisoner, tortured by his captors. We still were unable to bring him home, but before our agent returned, he told her that they were trying to break into his mind."

"So you think he's been compromised."

"I know he has, Director. I'm well aware of the threat he poses to your people right now, and I do not discount that, but I know Loki well. None of his behaviors since coming to your world are typical of him, even—especially—when he is on a mission. For example, he prefers not to draw attention to himself, and yet the moment he arrived here, he started a battle with your people. Caused a spectacle in front of an entire crowd, gave dramatic speeches. It would have been much more in keeping with his character to have befriended you instead, and gotten what he wanted thereby."

"So they've brainwashed him," said the man with the striped uniform. An interesting way of putting it.

"So it would appear; however, I believe it may yet be possible to save him, and prevent his current plans from coming to fruition."

"And what are his current plans?" asked a woman, who had not stopped studying him intently since he'd first sat down.

"You have already discovered that the Tesseract is capable of opening a portal to faraway space, making it possible to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye," said Tyr. "We learned from Loki that his captors, the Chitauri, are, in his words, 'wanderers and scavengers and parasites'. They inhabit a realm temporarily, drain it of its resources, and then move on to the next. If they could find a way here, to your world, then they would have access to all the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil, and all the riches they could plunder."

"The… Nine Realms?" asked another man, a tired-looking sort in rumpled clothing.

"Worlds which are remarkably similar to one another and which are inhabited by compatible species," said Tyr. "The flow of the energies of Yggdrasil, what we call the World Tree, causes this. It is why you and I look so similar, for example, and are able to breathe the same atmosphere. Not all the people of the Nine are as similar to one another, but we have many traits in common. More importantly, however, the World Tree also facilitates travel between these realms. And your world is something of a nexus, with access to them all. If the Tesseract can bring the Chitauri here, to this world, then they are effectively on the doorstep of all the others. Trillions of people would be in danger from them."

"So Loki is using the Tesseract to open a portal for these Chitauri to come through," said Fury. "Why do your people want it so badly?"

"We don't." Tyr could not help but say it, even knowing the reaction it would cause.

Fury glowered, almost as intimidating as the All-Father himself when he was in a temper. "Given Thor's behavior, I find that very hard to believe."

Tyr nodded in understanding. "You may have noticed or deduced, Director, that Asgard does not need the Tesseract for our own purposes. Neither Thor nor I used it to come here; Asgard has its own means of travel between the realms. But your people have the barest inkling of the true power of the Tesseract, and are in danger of destroying yourselves with it. Asgard would place the Tesseract in safekeeping, in the royal vaults, and attempt to keep any other power from obtaining it. Just as Loki originally set out to do before he was captured—preventing anyone from gathering the Infinity Stones all in one place. The power they could unleash if coupled together is… unimaginable."

"Unimaginable how?" asked another man.

Tyr rubbed at his forehead, trying to think of an analogy. "Your people's most powerful weapons are fission bombs, correct? You've used them in attacks only twice in your history before determining that a single weapon, capable of leveling an entire city, was too much power for one nation to bear. The Infinity Stones, if harnessed for the purpose, could destroy _continents_. And if they were joined together? Our histories tell of a time when entire realms were obliterated from space, before the Stones were separated and hidden, apart from one another."

The room was silent for a long moment as the humans all took that in. "So… gathering the Infinity Stones would be _bad_ ," said someone.

"You see why Loki wished to determine that that was not the case," said Tyr. "No. We do not want the Tesseract for ourselves. If our intentions were not honorable, it would be a simple matter to use our own technology to bring armies here and take it from you. But that is the very problem that you face: your people are not powerful enough to keep it safe from those who would come to take it and use it for their own purposes. And they _will_ come," added Tyr. "Your use of the Tesseract's energies has already lit the skies like a beacon, announcing where it is located. I tell you truly, you simply do not have the might to face down any of the other peoples of the Nine, much less those from beyond Yggdrasil who are coming now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno. Not sure I'm satisfied with this chapter, but I've left you all hanging for a bit and I didn't want to risk taking too much more time away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyr speaks to the Avengers, and then with Thor.

The room was silent for a long moment, until one of the humans spoke. "So that explains Loki," he said. "What about Thor?"

Tyr sighed. "Thor was sent here to aid you in stopping Loki, but… certain political factions, I suppose you could say… placed a higher priority on his obtaining the Tesseract, for all the reasons I have already described. It is a priority to get it somewhere safe as soon as possible."

"So he barges in and attacks us?" This from the woman who ad been studying Tyr all along. One corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Yes, I can understand your skepticism. His Highness is young yet, and unfortunately his emotions are too easily manipulated. He means to be an ally, not an enemy, but from what I was told before coming here, he has not exactly swayed anyone to his cause, thanks to his behavior."

"You got that right," says the man in the striped uniform. "Packs a hell of a punch, too."

"Indeed. Thor is one of Asgard's finest warriors, but diplomacy is not his area of greatest skill."

"And yours is?"

Tyr's smile widened. "Not really, but as chief general of Asgard's armies, I have had my share of experience with politics." His smile faded. "I also know intimately the true cost of war, and would prefer diplomacy to achieve our objectives. Ours, and yours."

"Diplomacy implies trade," said Director Fury. " _Assuming_ we allow you to take the Tesseract, what are you prepared to give us in return?"

"I suppose that depends on what you are asking for," said Tyr.

"Loki," said Fury, and Tyr bit back the instinctive surge of anger in response. Even so, could feel his expression harden.

"No."

"One man, in exchange for the Tesseract."

The tired-looking man spoke up next. "And what would you do with him, huh? Put him in jail? The first-ever confirmed space alien to visit our world? Somehow I don't think so."

"Loki needs to be stopped," said the director.

"And I don't dispute that," said the other man, "but locking him up in a lab isn't stopping him; it's revenge."

They wanted to experiment on Loki? Tyr's nostrils flared, but he managed to contain his ire with an effort of will. "It may be possible to stop Loki without leaving him as a hostage on your world," he said, rather than berating them for their audacity.

"One man, in exchange for the Tesseract," Fury said again. "Seems a small price to pay."

Tyr shook his head. "Asgard would not allow the second-in-line for the throne to be kept here as a prisoner. That would almost certainly lead to war." That was entirely the truth, even if Odin did not order it. Tyr could gather hundreds of volunteers willing to fight to get their prince back, warriors and seidkonur alike. Mimir alone was a force to be reckoned with.

The reaction swept the room, although Fury and a few others hid their emotions behind stoic masks. "I'm sorry," said the woman who had spoken before. "I thought you called Thor 'His Highness'."

"I did," said Tyr. "Thor is first in line for the throne, and Loki is second. They are both princes of Asgard, and there would without doubt be an official response from our king if either of them were to be kept here against their will."

"Even Loki, despite what he's done?"

"Even Loki… partially _because_ of what he has done. As I said, Director, his mind has been tampered with. We would see him returned safely to Asgard where he might receive treatment and be restored to himself."

"You really think you can rehabilitate him?"

"We won't know until we try," said Tyr. But they would succeed, he thought, no matter how long it took. Loki was his son. Sigyn's husband. Thor's brother. Mimir's best student. They all would give everything they had to see Loki made whole again. "Although I would appreciate the opportunity to assess him myself, since he is a captive here on your ship."

Director Fury sat back in his seat, his good eye narrowed in speculation. "Now how the hell did you know that?" he asked.

"How did he know your name when he got here?" asked one of the men.

"The Gatekeeper of Asgard is a man named Heimdall," aid Tyr, "and he has the ability to see and hear anything he likes within all the Nine Realms. I spoke with him before I came here, the better to prepare myself for our encounter."

One of the men brought a hand to his mouth and coughed, but it sounded to Tyr as though he were covering up a bit of profanity as he did. Judging from the expressions the others in the room gave him, Tyr's guess was correct. "Come on," said the man. "That's impossible."

"By your reckoning, I suppose it would be," said Tyr mildly. "Nevertheless, I am not wrong, am I? Loki is here. When I arrived, Thor was being interrogated by one of Director Fury's men. You do not have the Tesseract currently, but you have used it to create a new class of weapons—"

"You did _what?_ " The man in the striped uniform was glaring at Fury, and several of the others looked shocked, annoyed, or disgusted at Tyr's revelation.

"Ah," said the general. "I was unaware that this was something you wished to keep secret from your people. My apologies." Not that he was actually sorry. If there were those among the humans who objected to the use of the Tesseract for such aims, then there was hope that they would do the sensible thing and allow it to be returned to Asgard without a fight.

"We can discuss this at another time," Fury began, but the others cut him off.

"We'll discuss it now," said the first man. "I did not put my life on the line to stop Schmidt and the rest from making weapons out of that damn space cube, just so you could turn around and carry on their work!"

"Perhaps it would be best if I were not present for this conversation," said Tyr. "As I said, I was unaware that this was privileged information. I would be happy to speak to Thor and Loki while you resolve this matter here."

Director Fury leveled an unimpressed look his way, clearly seeing through Tyr's ploy but unable to work a way out of it. "Fine. Hill. Go."

* * *

 

Tyr left the humans talking among themselves, voices raised in agitation so that he could still hear them even after he'd left the room. He hoped that part of their conversation would involve a debate on whether or not Tyr was telling them the truth about the dangers of keeping the Tesseract on their world. The short-sighted among them were no doubt still thinking of ways to put the thing to use, rather than the safest and fastest way to recover it and relinquish it to Asgard. Still, the general was confident that they would come to the correct conclusion eventually. Director Fury seemed to be a sensible man, beneath his intimidating exterior… even if he had authorized the original project to craft weapons using the Tesseract's power in the first place.

The woman called "Hill" was apparently Fury's second-in-command, and it was she who escorted Tyr to the room where Thor was, in fact, being held for interrogation. Tyr held back a sigh; he had warned Odin that a heavy-handed approach would not go over well, but the All-Father hadn't listened, and now both princes were being treated as prisoners, or near enough in Thor's case.

Hill led him through the corridors in silence, a stony expression on her face. Tyr supposed he couldn't blame her, after he had revealed their secrets to the other humans in the way that he had. She did not speak to him, and Tyr wondered if he was meant to be intimidated. Eventually, however, she stopped and knocked on a nondescript door, one of many in this corridor. "He's in here," she said. "You can talk to him, but he doesn't get to leave unless the director okays it."

"Of course."

The nondescript door was opened by an equally nondescript human, not very tall, with balding hair and a perceptive gaze. He looked Tyr over quickly, but apart from a raised eyebrow seemed unperturbed by the general's appearance.

"Take as much time as you need," said the man. "Just knock when you're finished."

"Of course," replied Tyr again; he moved aside long enough to give the human room to pass, then stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

* * *

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of good-cop-bad-cop scenario?" Banner was asking, back in the conference room. They weren't appeased, not by a long shot, but Fury had at least managed to get them to table discussion of Pegasus and the Phase II program for the time being. "Send Thor in to raise a fuss, then this General Tyr comes along afterward to calm everybody back down?"

"You'd have thought so right before he dropped that bombshell on us about the Phase II weapons," said Stark.

"And how the hell do _you_ know so much about them?" demanded Fury, but Stark only rolled his eyes.

"Please. You've tried to hack JARVIS how many times and you didn't think I would try and return the favor? You invite me to join your super secret boy band and expect me not to do my homework? Come on."

Rogers looked like he was about to speak up, no doubt spoiling for a fight about Phase II and how things were back in his day, but thankfully Agent Romanov beat him to it.

"This is a distraction anyway," she said. "It's possible that General Hymirsson wants us too agitated to pay attention to his conversations with either Thor or Loki."

"Thank you, Agent Romanov," said Fury. "As for good-cop-bad-cop, Doctor Banner, that's what we're going to find out."  With a gesture, he brought up the security feed in Thor's interrogation room, and they all watched as Coulson answered the door and let the other alien in.

"Wish I'd brought popcorn," said Stark. Fury chose not to dignify that with an answer. In his earpiece, he heard Hill say, " _Showtime, sir_ ," and he leaned back in his chair to watch the feed.

* * *

The first prince was pacing the little chamber like an agitated köttur, glaring at nothing and clenching his fists. He looked up when Tyr stepped inside, and his expression changed to one of astonishment. Tyr, for his part, said nothing, only stepped around one end of the table in the room so that he could approach Thor.

"General Tyr? What are you doing he—ow!"

Tyr cut him off with a sharp smack to the side of his head. He was fortunate that the general used his flesh hand, and not the one made of silver.

"What was that for?" scowled Thor, and Tyr folded his arms.

"Rampant stupidity," he replied, letting the prince's glare roll off of him like water. "I have not seen the like from you in nearly five hundred years. Have you forgotten how to think? Has the air of Midgard turned you into a witless fool?"

"I don't know what you are talking abou—"

"Do you know nothing of respect for the other peoples of the Nine Realms?! You barged in here without pausing to consider the humans' objectives and motives, you treated them as the enemy, and now you are upset that they do not trust you? Do you have _any idea_ how much more difficult you have made _my_ job as a result of your blundering?"

"Father sent me to retrieve the Tesseract!" exclaimed Thor.

"And why do you think he sent me, then, hm? To try and salvage _your_ blunder." Tyr wondered if perhaps they ought to have switched languages for this conversation; on a ship led by a spymaster, Tyr had no doubt they were being observed in some fashion. Some of what Thor might reveal, especially about the Aesir's relationships to one another, could be disastrous.

But Thor only sighed, and sat heavily in the chair on his side of the interrogation table. "I thought only to retrieve the Tesseract quickly and be gone from this world. Disturb as few humans as possible."

Tyr resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "The moment you realized that humans were involved should have been the moment you revised that plan," he said. "By the ancestors, Thor! Did you even stop to ask the All-Father what his plans were concerning Loki?"

Thor was silent; Tyr waited him out. "He said nothing," he confessed at last.

"Nothing," said Tyr. "Thor, you of all people should know better by now than to blindly accept the All-Father's words without considering his motives. You _know_ he no longer loves your brother as a son!"

"He values Loki—"

"Values, yes, as he values an expensive blade, well-sharpened. But the moment that blade shows signs of damage, will he repair it, or cast it aside? Did he ask you to bring Loki home, or was he only concerned with the Tesseract?"

Thor looked stricken as the realization finally sank in. "The Chitauri broke into his mind. He is not the man we knew." He looked up at Tyr. "Those were his words to me."

Tyr shook his head and sighed, "Your father considers Loki expendable on this mission. A lost cause. He means to abandon him here, to whatever punishments the humans might contrive in retribution for his crimes against them."

"I will not let that happen," said Thor.

"Nor will I. Nor will many others, once word reaches them of Loki's plight." Let the humans ponder that knowledge, if they were truly eavesdropping. "But it will be all the more difficult to make the humans listen to us, after the way you have treated them. For all they know, you are in league with him and mean to make war upon them. I have attempted to convince them that this is not the case, but it's impossible to know whether I have succeeded."

"I am sorry," muttered the prince, looking away.

Tyr sighed. "What's done is done. The only thing we can do now is move forward."

"The humans treat me as a prisoner. I do not know how much aid I will be to you."

"If you were a prisoner I think they would behave toward you differently, my prince, but it is clear that they do not trust you. Nor have they cause to. Look at the situation from their perspective."

"Hm." Thor smiled, a sad little thing that barely reached his eyes. "Loki used to say that to me."

"Your brother is wise, for one as young as he is." Tyr folded his arms and leaned against the little table. "I will do what I can for you," he said. "And certainly Odin will not see you left behind on this realm. But my first concern must be for our mission: retrieving both Loki _and_ the Tesseract. Do you understand?"

Thor didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded all the same. "I do, General Tyr."

Tyr nodded as well, satisfied. "I have been instructed that you are not to leave this room when our conversation is finished. I think they will likely ask you more about Loki, or possibly about the Tesseract. Be cautious in your answers: they were endangering themselves before, attempting to use it, and I would not see the humans destroyed due to their own shortsightedness."

"They were using it?" Thor looked horrified, and Tyr was relieved that he understood the full gravity of the situation. Even better, if the humans were listening, the prince's reaction should at least give them pause. "Surely you have attempted to dissuade them!"

"Of course," said Tyr. "Whether or not they will listen to me, however, I cannot say. It is my hope that the more sensible among them will realize that we speak the truth, and permit Asgard to retrieve the Tesseract without the use of force."

"I know Father wished to avoid that, if at all possible." Thor stopped, shaking his head ruefully. "Once again I have failed one of his tests."

"I am not so sure this was meant to be a test, but…" Tyr shrugged. "You meant well. And I suspect the humans know that you are not truly a threat to them, or you would be a prisoner in fact, rather than merely held for questioning."

"Heh. They could try to hold me. They would not succeed."

Tyr frowned. "Do not make the mistake of underestimating them, Thor. That is what got you into trouble here in the first place."

Thor's smirk faded. "I suppose you are right." He looked up then and met Tyr's eyes. "If it means that you are able to bring Loki home, I will remain behind, and endure whatever indignities I must, until Father sends for me."

"Be careful what promises you make," warned Tyr. "The humans may well hold you to them."

* * *

Tyr exited the room and found himself face to face with both the nondescript interrogator and Maria Hill. "Satisfied?" asked the man.

"I am satisfied that you are not mistreating the first prince of Asgard for your own gain," said Tyr, and hid a smile as both the man and Maria Hill tried to cover their reactions. "He is permitted to continue to answer your questions, for the time being, but if the Chitauri come, you would be wise to allow him to fight beside you." The general crossed his arms, taking a moment to look them both in the eye. "And now I will speak to the second prince."

"Director Fury—"

"Your Director Fury already knows of my desire to see him. He has been missing for the past several years, and presumed dead for over a year. I _will_ speak to Loki, now. I wish to assess the damage that has been done to him while he was lost to us."

And, if possible, find a way to start Loki on the path to recovery.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyr visits Loki, and makes a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not go the way I wanted it to, at all. I've got a moment I've been visualizing since almost the day I started _Grievance_ , and I'd expected to get to it in this chapter and then other things happened instead. Well. You'll see. Hopefully the chapter doesn't feel flat or stilted, or like something is missing as a result. I'm not sure this one was one of my best.
> 
> But. Without further ado. Here ya go.

The woman named Hill guided Tyr through the ship, taking him down several levels to the area where prisoners were kept. By the time she stopped, Tyr was certain they must be near the hull of the flying vessel; he could feel the floor vibrating beneath his feet.

They were joined in the corridor not long afterward by Director Fury, along with the redheaded woman who had been studying Tyr so intently during his interview in their council chamber. _Of course,_ Tyr realized. She must be one of their interrogators, assigned to watch Tyr himself. It would likely make her suspicious, but the general could not help the way his expression softened when he noticed the way she held herself. She moved like Geirny the Thief, or like Loki himself; Tyr had not realized he could miss the way his son walked, among the general longing he held for his son and his safe return.

"Through that door is the cell where we're keeping Loki," said Fury. "The walls are transparent, and you will be able to hear each other clearly. You will not approach the walls of his cell. You will not approach his door without our express permission. You will be accompanied by myself, Agent Romanov," he indicated his companion, "and the guard detail already in place inside the containment unit. Do you understand these instructions?"

The hint was not very subtle at all; these were non-negotiable terms, but so far, they were reasonable enough. "I do."

Fury nodded. "There's one more thing you need to know. This specific cell is not a permanent part of this ship's structure. It's designed, in case of emergency, to drop through the hull and be discarded. We are currently thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, and if it looks as though you are even thinking about helping Loki to escape, we will not hesitate to demonstrate that feature."

"An interesting precaution," said Tyr. He kept his voice even through sheer effort of will. "Do you treat all your prisoners thus?"

"Loki is a special case, as you've said."

And yet, they would have had to have designed this cage long before Loki ever arrived on their world. It left Tyr wondering just how much honor he could expect to see from the humans, and whether or not he could trust them to leave Loki alive after Tyr finished speaking to him.

Well. He raised his eyebrow. "I trust it won't come to that. Neither of us wants to be responsible for the war that would follow."

Agent Romanov raised her eyebrow in turn. "Not a very diplomatic response," she said.

"Not a very subtle threat." Tyr allowed himself to smile, and allowed the smile to show teeth. "I'm not a diplomat, as I said earlier. If we were discussing diplomacy, I would be forced to wonder why your director feels the need to issue such threats, when he has already been made aware of the consequences of those actions, should he follow through."

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but Fury stopped her. "We have a saying on our world that desperate times call for desperate measures. And I have already told Loki that he and his theft of the Tesseract, his plans for a bugfuck _invasion,_ have made me _very_ desperate. He thought it was funny."

"Rest assured, Director, I do not," said Tyr. "Now, have we finished with the formalities, or did you have further warnings you wished to give?"

Fury looked displeased, but he nodded to Hill; the woman turned to a panel mounted beside the door, and pressed her palm to it. As with the airlock outside, a light blinked from red to green, and the door before them opened. Beyond it, a short corridor led to a circular catwalk above a brightly lit area.

Agent Romanov glanced at Tyr, then stepped forward on silent feet, gliding toward the nearest ladder down off the catwalk. Fury gestured, and Tyr followed.

* * *

 

"There's not many people who can sneak up on me," Tyr heard Loki say; he shuddered to hear the voice of his son for the first time after too many years apart.

Agent Romanov had gone down to the lower level, where she could see into Loki's cage—for that was what it was. He was held in bright light and afforded no privacy; up here, on the catwalk, monitors showed Loki's movement within the cage from every angle. He had been pacing, but stopped when Agent Romanov appeared.

"But you figured I would come," she said.

"After," replied Loki. "After whatever tortures Fury could concoct, you would come to me, as a friend. As a balm. And I would cooperate."

Tyr glanced sidelong at Fury, but the man gave away nothing. Even so, Tyr was inclined to accept Loki's assessment. It would serve him well to remember that human standards for the treatment of prisoners might not be the same as those of the Aesir. Certainly one of them had already hinted at experiments to be performed on Loki if he were kept here.

"I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton," Romanov was saying. One of the humans Loki had subverted, if Tyr did not miss his guess.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind," said Loki easily. Too easily; it ached in Tyr's heart to hear how little Loki seemed to care for the consequences of his actions. It was yet another forcible reminder that he had been subverted himself.

"And once you've won—once you're king of the hill—what _happens_ to his mind?"

On the monitors, Loki smiled at her. "Is this love, Agent Romanov?"

"Love is for children; I owe him a debt."

Loki stepped back into the center of the cage, his eyes on her the entire time. "Tell me."

Tyr spoke up then. "No." On the monitors, Loki froze, then looked up with a puzzled little frown. Unlike Agent Romanov, Tyr made no attempt at stealth as he came down the ladder to make eye contact with his son. "That will not be necessary, Agent Romanov. Thank you."

Behind the glass, Loki seemed to falter for the barest instant, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face before he regained his composure. "General Tyr," he said warmly. "It _has_ been a long time, hasn't it?"

 _General Tyr._ Not "Father". Tyr swallowed against the pain that welled at Loki's words. If he had needed further proof that something was very wrong here, this was it.

But… that didn't make sense. If Loki were attempting to pretend that he was not compromised, that he was in full control of his mind and emotions, he would not give away such an obvious clue, would he? Certainly he had presented a very different facade to the humans so far, but they did not know what cues to look for.

"It has," said Tyr carefully. "Too long, in truth. It is good to see you well."

Again, there was the briefest flicker of surprise across Loki's face. Agent Romanov's appearance here, he had predicted, and likely accounted for, but Tyr's arrival apparently did not factor into any of his plans.

"I take it Odin has sent you to retrieve the Tesseract?" he probed. "Or perhaps you are here to clean up after Thor's mess." Loki smiled then, with too many teeth and a gleam to his eyes. "There was no need to trouble yourself. As ever, I am Odin's dutiful errand-boy."

Ah. Attempting to cast doubt on Tyr's purpose here. "You've never been Odin's dutiful anything," the general retorted, and one corner of Loki's mouth quirked up.

"True enough. That was what he had you for, is it not?"

"Do you imply that I am Odin's errand-boy, or that he uses me to keep you in line?"

Loki shrugged. "Either would be true enough, would it not?"

No, this was not the Loki that Tyr knew. His persona was crafted well, as well as any other cover he had played while acting as Asgard's best spy, but this was not Tyr's son. This was an illusion.

An illusion…

With a quick glance at Agent Romanov, Tyr began to remove his gloves. As expected, she was arrested by the sight of his silver hand emerging from beneath its leather covering. "What's that?" she asked.

"It's a prosthetic," said Tyr calmly, "and it has a few features of its own."

"I am surprised they allowed you to keep it," said Loki. "You must have been very convincing when you persuaded them that you were an ally."

Naturally, Agent Romanov's gaze sharpened. "If it's a weapon—"

"Not in the way you mean," replied Tyr. "Or rather, it is no more of a weapon than either of your hands." He ran his fingertips along his thumb, feeling the rasp of the carved rune "fingerprints" against one another. "But it has been imbued with a few unusual capabilities, which I hope to use to see what sort of forces are influencing Loki's mind, and whether or not any of them may be broken."

"Oh, I do wish you luck with that," said Loki.

Tyr smiled. "That is possibly the only true thing you have said since we arrived." Without further ado, he made a circle with his thumb and fingers, and looked through it at Loki.

What he saw nearly undid him completely.

One of the many enchantments in Tyr's hand allowed him to see through illusions and glamours, and sure enough, Loki was wearing one, which covered up the evidence of his torture. His clothing was ragged and filthy, he appeared gaunt rather than lean, part of his hair appeared to have been burned away, and there was an angry red slash along one cheek that would likely scar if not treated soon. More upsetting than all that, however, was the second, ghostly image of his son who stood just behind the first, staring at Tyr with wide, frightened eyes. He looked younger than his solid counterpart, somehow; his clothing was undamaged, but was of a style that Loki hadn't worn in centuries.

"Interesting," said Tyr, keeping his voice as level as possible.

"What do you see?" The human woman's question broke Tyr from his thoughts.

"More than Loki likely wishes me to," he replied absently. With his free hand, he gave Loki a hand signal: _report._

The ghost-Loki surged forward, merging partially into the Loki that the humans could see. His hands came up and quickly signaled _Help_. Solid-Loki shuddered and blinked in apparent confusion, seemingly unaware of what his hands had just done, but the ghost-Loki staggered back as if shoved. When he tried to move forward again, he bounced off of Solid-Loki and clutched at his head as if struck. _Help_ , he signed again, his expression desperate.

"What are you doing?" asked Agent Romanov, at the same time as the solid-Loki tilted his head and squinted at them both.

"Keeping secrets from your allies, General Tyr?" he asked. His smile widened. "My, how much you must _trust_ one another."

Tyr ignored him, answering Agent Romanov. "Asgard's military has developed a signaling system for times when it is prudent not to draw attention to oneself by speaking aloud. I am sure your own soldiers utilize something similar." He did not take his silver hand away from his face, studying both Lokis' expressions as he spoke. "When he was younger, Loki expanded on this signaling system and created a full language with it."

"Why use it now?" asked Agent Romanov.

"You may look, if you wish." He stepped to one side and held out his hand for her. The woman glanced at him warily—doubtless, she suspected that he would attempt to attack her while she was distracted—before moving in front of him, her back to his chest. Tyr held himself perfectly still and allowed her to guide his prosthetic until it rested at her eye level. She looked, and he felt it in the way she went tense against him when she saw Loki's ghostly double.

Quickly, she stepped out of Tyr's reach and spun to face him. "What the hell is that?"

"I am uncertain, but I believe it to be evidence of the damage Loki has suffered."

"Damage," said Loki. "Is that what you think? I break from Asgard's stultifying stagnation and forge my own path, and therefore I must be damaged? Because I do not conform to your notions of propriety and docility, obedience to Odin's _whims_ , there must be something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there very much is," said Tyr. "You've embraced this character a bit too fully, I think, Loki. It is time to release him."

"Character. You think me play-acting when I will rule this realm and call it mine own."

"Yes, Loki, I do. You are play-acting like a child, only not very convincingly to anyone who already knows who you are."

"You know nothing of who I am, _weaponsmaster_."

Tyr was beginning to get a picture of what had happened to Loki, and it was giving him chills to consider. Loki often adopted different personae when he was working as a spy, pretending to be someone else on some faraway realm in order to further Asgard's interests. But now, thanks to the Chitauri, his mind was broken so completely, and his magic tied into that breakage in such a way, that the character he'd adopted seemed to have taken over his personality completely. He had no idea what the second, ghostly Loki was meant to represent, but he had little confidence that it was within his abilities to cure.

"I will return to speak with you later, Loki," said Tyr. He looked through his hand one last time at his son, and saw the ghost-Loki shaking his head frantically. He seemed unable to move away from Solid Loki, or Tyr suspected he would be pounding his fists against the glass.

 _Help_ , he signed again. _Send reinforcements. Urgent. Help._

 _I will, my son,_ thought Tyr, but he could give no indication of that in his word or expression. "Agent Romanov, if you would."

She began to lead him to another corridor that would take them away from the cage, when Loki spoke. "I thought you wanted to know what I've done to your precious Agent Barton."

Tyr answered before the woman could take Loki's bait. "I doubt that whatever you have done to him compares to what was done to you." Loki's expression was one of consternation; Tyr merely nodded and promised, "I will return."

* * *

 

"Two Lokis." Fury looked skeptical, but at least willing to hear them out after Agent Romanov gave her report. "We're dealing with two of them now?"

"I don't think so," said Tyr. "I believe this to be a sign of the damage done to Loki's mind. He has used relatively little seidr since coming to your world; it is possible that it is tied up in the second Loki in some fashion."

"Sey-ther?"

"Seidr," nodded Tyr. "I suppose you would call it his magic."

"Now you're telling me he's motherfucking Harry Potter." Tyr could read the signs of exhaustion in the other man, along with the desire to throw something—possibly Tyr.

"I do not know that name," said Tyr, "but I can tell you this much. Every sorcerer has a reservoir of energy which they draw upon, called their seidr. Loki is a sorcerer of strength and skill unequaled in the Nine Realms. He uses magic as easily as breathing; yet he has used very little of it since coming to your world. That raises the obvious question…"

"Why not?" asked Hill.

"Precisely." Tyr ran a hand along his beard, thinking. "Sigyn told us that the Chitauri were able to track Loki by his magic, and prevent him from escaping them. It may be that he is minimizing his use of seidr in order to prevent drawing their attention."

"That implies he's trying to give us time to stop him," said Agent Romanov.

"It is possible." Or perhaps traveling here via the Tesseract drained his reserves, but Tyr was not going to point out that potential weakness to these humans. "Loki often plays a deeper game than is apparent on the surface. It is part of what makes him such a skilled spymaster for Asgard, something I am sure you are also familiar with, Agent Romanov."

"Did you get anything from Loki that you can base that guess on?" asked Hill.

"Not from my visit to him, no." Tyr shook his head, but tapped the tablet that they had allowed him to use to see Loki's behavior prior to his capture. "However, I am inclined to wonder if his grandiose speeches were not tailored to garner exactly the right response from you in order to bring him here," he said, "but to what end, I could not say."

"He is where he wants to be, is what you're saying," put in Director Fury.

"It appears so, but there is still the damage to his mind to consider."

"So what do you want to do about it?" asked Fury, leaning back in his seat.

One corner of Tyr's mouth quirked up; he could just guess how Fury would take this next suggestion. "With your permission, I would call in an expert."

Fury brought one hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Another alien from Asgard."

"If it is any consolation, he is no warrior. He is, in fact, quite old. So far as I know, he would not pose a physical threat to any of your people."

"And what's his area of expertise?"

"Seidr, of course. He was Loki's teacher and mentor when they were younger."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mimir assesses the scepter and Loki, and loses patience with Fury's stubbornness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone two months trying to figure out how to approach this next chapter, worrying that I was at risk of abandoning the first story series I've ever written, unable to find a way in... and then today inspiration struck. Struck HARD. I only had about 1375 words waiting for me when I opened the document, just up to the first line break. I wrote the entire rest of the chapter this afternoon... like, blam.
> 
> Slightly longer chapter than usual, to make up for the delay. I really hope you enjoy.

Fury wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy, Mimir. There was an analyst on the bridge who'd studied mythology as a hobby back in college, and who had pointed out that all these names the aliens (motherfucking _aliens_ ) were spouting sounded really familiar to her. So Fury had put her and a couple other analysts on the task of looking up everything on Norse mythology they could.

Turned out that Norse mythology was fucking bizarre, and Fury had a feeling most of it would end up unreliable at best. Loki was supposed to have given birth, for fuck's sake. Mimir was supposed to be a head in a jar, which Odin consulted for advice.

According to Tyr, whose information at least seemed verifiable, Mimir was more like an ancient wizard type. Fury knew better than to let any preconceived notions shape his perceptions—that was a quick way to get killed, in his line of work—but it was hard not to imagine something like Gandalf when the white-haired man materialized out on the upper flight deck.

At least he'd come alone. Tyr was standing on the bridge with Fury and nodded when the light show dispersed and left the solitary figure standing in the middle of the burned patch of asphalt (and damn but their transport technology was accurate; the burn patterns from Tyr's arrival and Mimir's didn't even overlap). "That's him?"

"It is," said the general.

Fury chose not to dwell on the fact that Tyr hadn't even needed to return to his home planet to get the man; he'd stepped out onto the flight deck and _yelled at the sky_ for a couple of minutes, and then stepped back inside like that was all he needed to do.

According to the analysts, Heimdall was all-seeing, and also white as snow with burning eyes. Tyr had actually laughed at that when the analysts had nervously approached him.

"All-seeing, yes. And his eyes are gold with the fullness of his power; I suppose one could say they burn, if one were feeling poetic. But his skin is dark as your own, Director."

Fury did not _appreciate_ that level of surveillance on him when there was nothing he could do to block it.

The fucking "Rainbow Bridge" seemed accurate enough, though. It glowed every color imaginable, like slow motion lightning, and when it dissipated, there was Mimir, standing on Fury's flight deck, waiting without a care in the world in the thin air as Tyr stepped back out through the airlock to greet him. Fury watched on the monitors as they clasped forearms, and the general leaned in close to say something to the older man; then they turned and came back toward the airlock, standing open to receive them.

Mimir looked pretty damned old at first glance, thought Fury; his hair was completely white, and pulled back in a braid that ran to the middle of his back. Even his eyebrows had gone white with age, and there was no color in his beard either. Unlike fictional characters from _The Lord of the Rings_ , his beard was short and neatly trimmed, revealing craggy features and eyes that were sharp despite the man's advanced age. He moved more slowly than Tyr, and the other man shortened his steps to accommodate, but held himself tall—all these aliens so far were tall—and did not give the impression of frailty. Fury would put him maybe at a vigorous mid-seventies, if he had to guess.

Of course, the sources they had on Norse mythology were all over a thousand years old, so who the hell knew how old these fuckers really were?

Then they came through the door, and Fury felt every last one of his danger senses go on alert. He'd felt something similar from Tyr, the sense that the man was a potential enemy whom Fury would prefer not to cross if it wasn't necessary, but then most of the people Fury dealt with on the daily were dangerous in their own ways. But there was an energy pouring off of Mimir that was _palpable_ , rather than metaphorical. Fury could feel the hairs on his arms standing up under his clothing and _moving,_ orienting on Mimir's movements as he stepped to one side; it was as if Mimir were holding caged lightning, or one of those generators the kids played with at the museum, the ones that moved ten thousand volts and filled everything that touched them with static electricity.

Romanov was looking at Mimir with wide eyes, and Hill had a hand on the butt of her sidearm and was looking to Fury for guidance. He narrowed his eyes. " _No physical threat_ ," his ass. He and Tyr were going to have words, if he could find a way to do it that wouldn't turn into a goddamned pissing contest.

Mimir looked about him a bit distractedly, but Fury didn't buy the doddering old man act for a second; then he blinked, as if coming back to himself, and the sensation skittering all up and down Fury's arms vanished as if it had never been.

What the ever-loving fuck had that been?

Tyr looked like he was about to make formal introductions, but Mimir beat him to the punch when he opened his mouth. "You are the Director, the leader of these people, correct? You are called Fury?"

"I am."

"I am called Mimir; doubtless you already had guessed as much. I shall not waste your time with idle pleasantries, Director. You have permitted me here in order to see Loki. I will speak with him now."

Fury's eyebrow went up. "You'll speak with him once we've determined just exactly what it is you plan to do with him afterward," he said.

Mimir frowned, more in confusion than in anger. "I thought that had been made plain before I arrived."

"All we've been told is that you plan to examine Loki and see if you can fix whatever has been done to his mind," said Fury. "There's been no explanation of how you're going to do that, or what you would do with Loki even if you did manage to cure him of his insanity."

"I will use seidr, of course, and as for afterward, our prince will be brought home to Asgard to recover."

"He's responsible for a lot of deaths here on Earth."

"And yet your laws clearly make exceptions for those who are deemed not to be in full possession of their faculties, Director Fury. You have just said it yourself; I am here to cure Loki of his insanity. Therefore he cannot be held responsible for his deeds among you humans." Mimir narrowed his eyes in a shrewd expression as he looked Fury up and down. "Besides, I think you will find that the majority of those deaths were caused when a building collapsed, because you were meddling with powers beyond your understanding, and not through any deed of Loki's."

"Uh, sorry not sorry, but meddling with things beyond our understanding is kinda what we _do_ ," said Stark behind them. "It's the only way humans learn anything. If we stuck only to what we already know we'd still be in the Dark Ages and worshiping you guys as gods."

Fury bit back a retort, but to his surprise Mimir chuckled. "A fair point. Nevertheless, Loki did not bring that building down upon your people's heads. You did."

"Let's just get this over with," said Fury. "You were going to go talk to Loki, let's go talk to Loki."

"Not quite yet," said Mimir, and Fury gritted his teeth against the retort just begging to come out of his mouth. "First there is the matter of the strange weapon he brought with him to your world. It is not of his craftsmanship, nor of any smith of Asgard."

"What does that have to do with Loki's mental state?" asked Romanov.

"Possibly everything," said Mimir. "Possibly nothing at all. I will not be able to say until I've examined it."

Fury really, really wanted to protest. The idea of allowing one of these aliens anywhere near a weapon seemed like a bad one to him, but then he was known to be a paranoid motherfucker. Besides, who knew, maybe Mimir would be able to tell them how to use it to locate the damn Tesseract; Stark and Banner had a program running and were waiting on it to get a hit, but that was all they had right now.

It went against his better judgment, but he nodded, and off they all went.

* * *

 

"Well," said Mimir, looking the scepter over carefully. "This is definitely not of Loki's make." He suppressed a shudder; everything about the energy pouring off the thing was wrong, and he was a bit surprised that the humans could not sense it, primitive though they were. He tucked his hands into his sleeves rather than touch it.

"You know that just from looking at it?" asked one of them skeptically, a man with a warrior's build wearing a strange uniform.

"I know it because I have worked with Loki's seidr for centuries, and I know its feel intimately." Mimir ignored the glances and the muttered, "Centuries?" behind him. "The energy which this weapon emits is similar to seidr, but is not quite the same, and in any case its signature is wholly unlike Loki's."

"Okay, so what does that mean for us?" asked another.

Mimir hummed thoughtfully. "In a general sense, the radiation given off by the scepter is similar enough to that produced by the Tesseract that you should be able to track it as you have been, with your technology. However, it is also similar enough that either I or Loki should be able to locate the Tesseract for you, once the scepter's signature is masked. Which I strongly recommend you do; there is a strong chance that this is what was used to damage Loki's mind in the first place, and there is no telling what that sort of energy could do if left out in the open, in your presence."

The humans traded wary glances, then one of them—a rumpled sort whose eyes held a fierce intelligence—stepped over to a shelf and pulled out a long, narrow case made of metal.

"If we put it away, we won't be able to use it to track the Tesseract," warned another man.

"Yeah, and if we don't put it away we could end up as bag-of-cats bonkers as our little house guest," said the first. "I'll pass, thanks." He took a deep breath, then picked up the scepter and placed it in the case, and shut the lid.

Mimir passed a hand over the container and frowned. "Its energies are only barely muted by this container," he said, and with a shake of his head he enclosed it in a proper shield, ignoring the humans' reactions as the glowing sphere sprang into existence.

"So what happens now?" asked their director.

"Ideally, that returns with us to Asgard so that we can study it and determine how it was used to harm Loki's mind."

"You want to take that _and_ the Tesseract?" Fury folded his arms and looked displeased. "Not a chance."

"Can _you_ contain it, Director?" asked Mimir, raising one eyebrow. "I fear your technology is not quite up to the task."

"And you can."

"I already have. But that shield will make it impossible for any of you to so much as touch it, never mind study or use it for your own ends. And if I choose to dissipate the shield, you run the risk of falling under its influence as Loki has done."

"We only have your word that the scepter is responsible for Loki's state," said a woman.

Mimir shrugged. "If you could sense magical energies, I could attempt to explain the specific matrix and patterns which characterize the scepter's output. However, you cannot, and my explanation would only seem like gibberish to you without that understanding to underpin my words."

"Enough," said General Tyr, and the humans fell silent. "We could spend hours quibbling over who has the right to possess these artifacts, and Asgard has already presented our arguments. Mimir came here to examine the scepter and Loki; he has already offered to aid you in locating the Tesseract in exchange. Now that the scepter is safely contained, it is time for him to see the second prince."

Director Fury glowered at them both, but he did not argue the point.

* * *

 

 _By the ancestors_ , thought Mimir, _what have you endured, my student?_ Fury had led them to a bank of monitors that overlooked Loki's cell, but their technology was only designed to convey visual information, light energy rather than the sort of knowledge Mimir required. Even so, Loki looked terrible. He was thinner than when Mimir had last seen him, his hair longer by years' worth of growth, and there were dark circles under his eyes that suggested the prince had not rested well in a long time.

And then General Tyr described what he had seen when using his enchanted hand's ability to ignore glamours.

"I will speak to him now," said Mimir.

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Fury. For once, he did not seem to be displaying obstinacy for its own sake; nevertheless, Mimir had run out of patience for his specific brand of obstruction.

"It is the entire reason I came to your planet, Director, skirting the edges of a treaty that has stood for millennia and bending rules that have been in place for your protection for that entire time," he replied. "We of Asgard are not meant to be here, and it is likely that the inter-realm council will only forgive our trespass if we conduct our business swiftly, and leave no trace of ourselves behind when we go."

"Inter-realm council?" he heard someone ask behind him. "There are more of them?"

"Indeed," said Mimir without turning around. "You have been left in isolation so that neither you nor your planet's resources would be exploited, and you could be allowed to develop at your own pace."

"General Tyr mentioned none of this," said Fury.

"For the most part, any information we give you may be construed as interference with your development," said Mimir. "In addition, I believe General Tyr _has_ already explained that your world is a nexus of travel points, which the Tesseract could use to access any world in the Nine Realms."

"He did," said the warrior, with a sidelong glance at the director. "And none of us wants that."

"Then it is _wise_ , as you put it, Director Fury, to allow us to complete our tasks and depart, with the treaty intact and your world unmolested."

Fury's lips thinned in annoyance, but he finally nodded and gestured to his second to show Mimir the way to Loki's cell.

"General Tyr, if you would accompany me."

* * *

 

They hid behind a glamour that Mimir cast, and crept down to observe Loki while he could neither see nor hear them. "His seidr is nearly depleted," Mimir said quietly, in the tongue of the elves. Tyr surmised that he did not want to share that information with the humans, and appreciated the gesture. He was unwilling to share any of Loki's weaknesses with them, himself.

"I had wondered," he replied in the same language. "He's done little with it since arriving on this world."

"That may be good news," said Mimir. "Sigyn told us that the Chitauri had a means of tracing his seidr. If he's depleted it, it is possible that he was attempting to erase the hooks they have in him."

"Hooks."

"It is possible that they were using his own seidr to control his mind," said Mimir, "though I am not certain how such a thing would be done."

"Warping it through the scepter first?" asked Tyr.

"It is something to consider as we explore the possibilities, yes."

Then Mimir made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and Tyr could see what lay behind Loki's own glamour, without using his silver hand. There was the wounded, bedraggled prisoner of the Chitauri, glaring about him with madness in his eyes, and there was the ghost-Loki, frightened, younger-looking, and seemingly tethered to the physical form.

Mimir's eyes narrowed and he paced slowly to one side, studying both Lokis intently. As Tyr watched, he made a number of small gestures with his hands, and muttered words under his breath that Tyr could not understand. Finally, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes grew wide at whatever strange thing he was seeing.

"Tyr," he said, "I am about to take the glamour away to reveal us. First there will be an illusion of us descending the stairs; once he is looking directly at you, I wish for you to speak to him. See if he knows who you are."

"I've already given you my report of his behavior from before," said Tyr with a frown.

"Yes… and I thought it telling that he did not call you by anything other than your titles. See if he will reveal what he believes his relationship with you to be."

"And his relationship to you?"

"That will reveal itself as well, I am sure."

* * *

 

"Hello again, weaponsmaster."

"Hello, Loki," said Tyr, switching to the humans' language to match Loki. Behind the solid Loki, his younger-looking ghost surged forward, signing frantically, as fast as Tyr's eyes could keep up. Begging for help. Begging not to be left alone again.

His son, reduced to begging. Tyr took a deep breath, gathering his resolve.

"I had a question for you," he said.

Loki tilted his head in false curiosity, his expression amused.

"And what makes you think I will answer your questions?"

"I think this one will amuse you," replied Tyr. "How do you know me?"

"You wish me to introduce you to the humans. How droll."

Tyr said nothing, merely waiting to see if Loki would take the bait.

"You are General Tyr," he said. "Second-most powerful man in Asgard, it is said, although I suppose that will only last until Thor and I come of age. You are the commander of Asgard's armies, who no doubt await only your word before you will sweep in and save the miserable humans from the threat you think I represent."

"Don't you?"

"I will rule them benevolently, once they submit," said Loki.

"Somehow I doubt that. Go on."

"You are responsible for the training of new recruits. For the noble-born you will sometimes reserve your time to offer private lessons, hence your title of weaponsmaster."

"And what do you remember of our interactions?"

"I don't." Loki shook his head, entirely casual, and offered a little shrug. "For such a politically powerful man, on a personal level you are… entirely forgettable."

This would have bothered Tyr more if he hadn't watched the ghost-Loki sign _you are rescue, aid, reinforcements_ throughout that entire speech.

"And who is this?" he asked, indicating Mimir.

Loki shrugged again. "Some advisor of Odin's, no doubt. He seems decrepit enough for the post."

Mimir nodded in satisfaction. He gestured, and they watched as Loki followed the illusion of Tyr and Mimir walking out of the room. He frowned, as if he'd expected more of an interrogation, which would have made sense.

"General Tyr," said Mimir. "In a moment you are going to enter Loki's cell, and with your silver hand, you are to strike him as hard as you can. Knock him unconscious, if possible."

Tyr said nothing, but stared at Mimir with his eyes wide. Loki's mentor and teacher wanted him knocked unconscious by his own father?

"What you surmised before is correct," Mimir explained. "The real Loki is hiding behind a carefully crafted facade, which has been reinforced by the scepter's energies. If we stun Loki, or knock him unconscious, I can strip the facade and bring back his true personality."

"Even with the scepter's influence?"

"I believe that Loki placed the facade in the scepter's path, if you will, so that the rest of him could hide behind it. He is attempting to protect his mind, do you see? But the scepter was put to use by the Chitauri to control his behavior while he is here, out of their physical clutches, and as a result the scepter's energies have strengthened the facade, given it a life of its own."

"And with the scepter contained…"

"Unconsciousness will disrupt the facade and it will have nothing upon which to rebuild itself."

Tyr nodded. "It will pain me to do this, but I will."

While they had been talking, Fury, Maria Hill, and the spy named Romanov all had come down the stairs, hidden by Mimir's illusions. Fury, as usual, looked displeased. "If you think we're letting you go into that cage," he began.

"It is not a question of 'letting'," said Mimir, "as you cannot stop us. Do consider your priorities, Director. You wish for Loki to be neutralized as a threat. We wish to restore his mind to its former state of being. Both of these will be accomplished shortly, with or without your permission."

"You go into that cage, and we'll drop it out of the sky," said Fury evenly.

Mimir actually rolled his eyes; Tyr had not seen such an exasperated expression on his face since Loki had been young. "No, you won't."

"You're not opening that goddamn door!"

The old Aesir smirked at him. "Who said anything about doors?" He grabbed Tyr's arm and pulled; there was a cold, rippling sensation as he passed through the cell's glass wall, and suddenly Tyr was inside with Loki.

The younger man looked at him in astonishment, and backed up a step. Before Loki could say anything, however, Tyr pulled back his fist, and swung with all his might.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki spends time in and out of consciousness; Natasha and Tyr have a talk.

Loki was clearly not expecting the blow; he didn't even bring up his hands to defend himself, likely because from his perspective, Tyr had appeared out of thin air and he'd had no time to prepare. Tyr's silver fist struck him square on the temple, and the younger man spun with the blow, bounced face-first off of the wall of the cell, and crumpled into a heap on the metal floor.

In an instant, Tyr was by his side, turning him over and checking his pulse. Its beat was steady and strong, and the general sighed his relief.

"Check his eyes." Mimir's voice echoed oddly through the communication system outside the cell. Tyr wasted no time in obeying, peeling back Loki's lid and frowning at what he saw.

"Director," he called, "you may wish to see this."

As he watched, Loki's eye faded from an unnatural blue and then grew darker, the shadow spreading until Loki's entire sclera was covered in inky black.

"What am I seeing, Mimir?" he asked.

It was Director Fury who answered. "When he used the scepter on my people, their eyes did this, only in reverse."

"Wait," said Mimir. And indeed, after a few more seconds, the black began to fade and Loki's normal eye color returned. The green was a bit dulled, as Tyr had seen several times over the centuries when his son was exhausted. "Are you satisfied, Director?"

"I'll be satisfied when he wakes up and isn't homicidal," came the response. Still, he sounded much less belligerent now that Loki was on the floor, unconscious, and Tyr supposed he could not blame the other man. He did not bother to look up, and instead began to check Loki's body for other signs of injury. He had no broken bones that Tyr could find, but he was unwilling to rule out internal injuries without a more thorough examination.

After another minute, Loki stirred. Tyr watched as his son swallowed and rolled his head to the side, before dragging one hand up to touch his temple where Tyr had struck him. Out of curiosity, Tyr raised his silver hand and looked through it again; the ghost-Loki was gone, but his solid counterpart was covered in glowing golden runes, everywhere that Tyr could see bare skin. Pushing up Loki's sleeve, Tyr saw that the runes continued up his arm; though magic was by no means his area of expertise, he thought he recognized a few of them as generally positive in intent.

Loki gave a pained little grunt as he touched his temple, and his hand dropped back to his side. He swallowed again, and his eyelids fluttered once, twice. Finally he opened his eyes, and squinted against the bright light of the cell, closing them again with a whimper.

"Loki?" Tyr kept his voice low, knowing the headache that his son was likely to be experiencing and not wishing to make it worse. "Can you hear me?"

"Nn…" Again, Loki tried to open his eyes, rolling his head toward the sound of Tyr's voice.

"That's it," he coaxed. "You're safe here, Loki. Open your eyes for me." With his flesh hand, Tyr reached out and caressed the side of his son's face, noting the way Loki first flinched, and then leaned into the touch as if craving the comfort it brought.

"Who…" With an effort, Loki managed to open his eyes and keep them open. It took him a moment, but Tyr waited as his gaze focused and he looked at Tyr. "Weaponsmaster?" Tyr's heart sank. Was Loki's facade still in place? "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Loki's eyes closed again, and Tyr fought against the urge to rouse him. "I don't… did I take a blow on the training grounds?"

Tyr frowned, and glanced up at Mimir; through the glass, the older mage's expression was impassive and difficult to read.

"Not exactly," said Tyr. "Can you tell me what you were doing most recently?"

"Most recent… I was… hurts."

"I know. We'll see about treating that soon. But it's important that you tell me what you remember."

"I was planning to go to Nidavellir," said Loki. "To get gifts for Father and Thor."

Loki had not called Odin "father" in centuries. Again, Tyr turned toward Mimir, eyes wide. Mimir was frowning now, but nodded as if he'd had something confirmed.

"Loki," Mimir called. "Do you know who I am?"

The younger man frowned at the sound of his voice. His eyes opened again, slowly and painfully, and looked around until he found Mimir, on the other side of the glass. He took in the older man's traveling robes and the stole he wore, and shook his head. "I'm sorry… Should I? Are you a healer?"

"Not quite." Mimir smiled. "I am a teacher of the ways of seidr."

At that, Loki struggled to sit up, and Tyr braced him as he clutched at his head. "Has Father agreed to find me a teacher?" he asked. "Are you—?" He cut off as he seemed to realize his surroundings for the first time. "Where are we?"

"Midgard," said Tyr.

"Mid… why did we come here?"

Director Fury looked as though he very much wanted to speak, but was holding himself back while he evaluated whether or not Loki was acting. "I'm afraid that is rather a long story," said Mimir, before the human could say anything. "I am more interested in evaluating you after your injury. Can you tell us more about this journey to Nidavellir? When you planned to go, perhaps?"

Loki, pale and bedraggled though he looked, still managed to flush at the question. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he said. "The sons of Ivaldi themselves have agreed to craft wonders for me, to give to Father and Thor." He flushed still further. "And Sif," he muttered.

Tyr's eyebrow rose. "A wig, perhaps?"

Loki spun, then clutched at his head and groaned. "Ow."

"I am sorry to have startled you."

"But how did you know that? It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It was," said Mimir, and allowed the meaning of his words to sink in.

"I've already gone? But I don't—why don't I remember?"

"I have a hypothesis," said Mimir. "Have you yet mastered the art of crafting a dimensional pocket?"

"I have, sir." Out of the corner of his eye, Tyr saw Fury shift.

"Can you reach into it now? I suspect you have something hiding there that will help you to remember."

"I…" Loki's expression changed to something faraway, as though he were looking at a place only he could see. He frowned thoughtfully, then made a smooth gesture with both hands, and brought forth a little hexagonal box that Tyr had never seen before. It glowed green and appeared to be made of the thinnest, most fragile glass, etched all over with tiny runes. It was beautiful, and small enough that Tyr could have held it with one hand if he weren't afraid of crushing it.

"I… I recognize this," said Loki. "But at the same time I think I've never seen it before in my life."

"What is it made of?" asked someone outside the cell. Tyr did not bother to look up to see who had spoken.

"It's seidr," said Loki. "It's _my_ seidr, but… I've only read theories about how one might convert seidr to matter, I've never…"

"Do you know what is inside?" asked Tyr.

Loki met his eyes with a bewildered expression. "I'm not sure, but—"

With a little twist, he removed the lid of the box, and the entire thing dissolved into a cloud of green-gold mist that sank into Loki's skin and flowed up across his face. He inhaled deeply, and the seidr vanished into his nose and mouth as his eyes fell shut. Loki swayed where he sat, and tipped backward, his shoulders dropping and his head beginning to loll; Tyr caught him before he could fall, and laid him back down carefully.

"Loki?"

"Give him a moment, General," said Mimir. "He has confirmed my hypothesis."

"Which was what?" asked Fury.

"I said earlier that Loki had crafted a facade and hidden himself behind it, as a way to protect himself from the scepter's foul influence," Mimir explained. "When he could not remember where he was or what he was doing—"

"And how do you know that wasn't an act?"

Mimir sighed. "It wasn't. With your eyes, I am sure Loki appeared the same both before and after he regained consciousness, but I was monitoring his seidr and his mind, and I could see large gaps in his aura, where it should have been whole and healthy."

Fury nodded—not that he had any choice but to take Mimir's words at face value. "Go on."

"As I was saying, when he could not remember, I realized that he had taken extra precautions, and excised his own memories, most likely so that the Chitauri would not be able to break into his mind and use his knowledge against him."

"And he put them in that box?"

"He created the box from them, yes."

"That is why he does not recognize you," guessed Tyr.

"And why he still refers to Odin as his father," agreed Mimir. "The Loki we are seeing now is one who existed quite some time ago, before he had awareness of us." He nodded at Loki's prone form, who was beginning to stir once more. "Although that may change now."

"Will he have regained all his memories?"

"I cannot say. Knowing Loki, this was but the first of many safeguards against compromising his home and loved ones."

Loki gasped and bolted upright; when he saw Tyr, he scrambled backwards until his back touched the edge of the bench that was affixed to the rear wall of the cell.

"Loki?"

"You're not real."

Tyr frowned. "I am, but I am uncertain how to prove it. Do you have any suggestions?"

Loki was breathing hard, quivering where he sat. "Hold out your hand."

Tyr held out both hands, unsure which one Loki needed to see. Loki stared at him; then, hands shaking, reached out and touched Tyr's flesh hand. His fingers were cold.

"Weaponsmaster," he breathed. "This place… the Chitauri are coming. I cannot hold them back. Warn Asgard."

"Would it not be better to warn Midgard?"

Loki's eyes darted back and forth as he thought. "I don't know their plans," he said, "but Midgard would be defenseless and the other realms do not go there; the Chitauri could establish a foothold before we were even aware of their presence."

"Loki," Mimir called again. Tyr's son jolted as though someone had shocked him, and he stared wide-eyed at the elder sorcerer.

"Who are you?"

Mimir nodded. "You do not remember me yet. I want you to reach into your dimensional pocket and see if there is anything there that you do not recognize."

Loki sneered, but Tyr could see beneath the bravado, and Loki's terror made him ache. "Why should I listen to you?"

"Because I believe more of your memories are stored within. Do you not recall retrieving a few, mere moments ago?"

Again, Loki frowned; he glanced at Tyr warily, and at the general's nod, he reached within himself once more and brought forth another box. This one was smaller, brighter than the previous one, and its carvings appeared more intricate.

"It's locked," he said. "I know not how to open it."

"Perhaps the answer will come to you, after you have rested awhile," said Mimir. "You have been through an ordeal."

"The Chitauri," said Loki. Again, he looked to Tyr. "How did you get me out?"

"You got yourself out," said Tyr. He reached out and clasped Loki's shoulder, not missing the flinch and the tension he could feel beneath his palm. "For now, I think it is best if you rest. Or eat. Director Fury, I presume your people are not so cruel as to starve your prisoners?"

Loki startled. "Prisoners—"

"There was a misunderstanding," said Tyr. "We are on Midgard now, where they have not seen one of our kind in many generations. They mistook us for a threat, but Mimir and I have hopefully addressed their concerns."

"We can get you food," said Fury, a bit grudgingly to Tyr's hearing.

"Prepare more than you think you will need," advised Mimir. "The people of Asgard tend to eat more than humans, and seidmenn such as Loki and myself eat even more than that."

Fury gestured toward one of the communication devices scattered throughout the chamber, no doubt signaling to someone watching to carry out his instructions. "We're not letting you out of there just to have lunch," he said.

Tyr wondered if he was willfully ignoring the fact that either Mimir or Loki would be able to pass freely through the walls of the cage whenever they wished. "I would not expect you to," he said. "In any case, I would prefer to remain by Loki's side while he rests, to ensure his safety."

"And ours?" asked Fury.

"That, too, yes."

* * *

 

The humans eventually left, save for Agent Romanov, who pulled up a chair to observe them directly. Since Loki seemed inclined to ignore her, Tyr did the same, focusing instead on his son.

"Is it really safe to sleep here?" he asked quietly.

"I would imagine so," Tyr replied. "There is little the humans can do to harm us, after all."

Loki brought forth the glowing box again, passing it from hand to hand as he studied its surface. "I think this is meant to be touched by someone else, in order to unlock it." Tentatively, he held it out for Tyr to take. "Would you like to try?"

"Of course." As soon as Tyr picked it up, the box changed shape, growing larger to match the previous one. The walls thinned, and some of the runes on it grew brighter. "What do these say?"

"They're… oh. This one is your name in the ancient form. The rest are a riddle. I suspect if I were incapacitated…"

"It would make it harder for an enemy to attempt to open this box."

Loki nodded. "Either that, or it was meant to be a memory trigger. For me."

Tyr turned the box over, and touched it with his silver hand. Immediately, the lid of the box came loose, and began to dissolve into vapor. "Are you ready?"

"We'll find out."

Tyr was at first concerned that perhaps the mist would go into his skin and not Loki's, but it seemed to ignore him and flowed directly toward the younger man as if called. Again he went limp, and again, Tyr lowered him to the floor of the cell.

There was a moment of silence, while Tyr studied his son's face; then, "You care about him," said Agent Romanov. "As more than just a fellow citizen of Asgard. Or as a subject to their sovereign."

Tyr saw no reason to hide the truth. "I do."

She tipped her head, thinking. "Mimir said something about Loki still calling Odin 'father', without his memories, implying that he doesn't do that anymore. Is that you, now?"

Tyr sighed. "It is."

"You adopted him from the king of Asgard. But you haven't adopted Thor."

"Politics, among other reasons," said Tyr. "I had no desire to start a civil war by claiming both of Odin's heirs for my own."

One of Romanov's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Sounds complicated."

"It was… and it wasn't." A simple thing, to stand up for the rights of an abused young man. A simple thing, to say, _No more_. "Some decisions do not require thought, no matter the consequences."

"And you're going to take care of him, even if it means making an enemy of Earth."

The general shrugged. "I intend no offense, but what I have said to Loki is true. You have very few weapons capable of harming us, without also destroying yourselves. Difficult to be the victor of a war in which no one is left standing. It is in your interests to allow us to complete our tasks here, and go."

"And you're convinced that Loki hasn't turned against Asgard in his absence."

Tyr thought of Sigyn, and smiled. "I am." The woman's expression remained still, but Tyr caught the consternation she was trying to hide at the simplicity of his declaration. "And in any case, we have no desire to make an enemy of your people; for all that our actions here may annoy you, we are not actively seeking to harm you. Indeed, from the right perspective, one could say we are doing you a favor, by removing the Tesseract from harm's way."

"And conveniently benefiting yourselves," Romanov countered.

Tyr shook his head. "That damned thing is more trouble than it is worth, even to us," he said. "It will be locked away where it can do no harm, as soon as we return it to Asgard."

A noise on the gangplanks outside the cage alerted Tyr to the return of the other humans; there were several of them now, pushing carts laden with flat white boxes. They stopped short, looking between Agent Romanov, Tyr, and the cell door that stood between them.

Fortunately, Mimir was behind them, along with two of the humans Tyr had seen before; shorter men, one rumpled, the other with outlandish facial hair. "We want to see this trick again, in slow motion this time," the second one said.

"Trick?" asked Tyr.

Mimir placed his hands on one of the carts; it began to glow, and he simply pushed the cart forward through the closed door as if it were not there. Immediately, the cell began to fill with the smell of food, and Loki began to stir moments later.

"How is he?" asked Mimir in the tongue of the elves.

"We opened the second box," said Tyr. "It was keyed so that only I could open it. He has been resting since."

"His aura still has gaps in it, though it looks better than it did," said Mimir. "I suspect he will have other boxes for us to open. A clever means of protecting himself; we could only restore his memories if he were with us, safe on Asgard."

Tyr thought about it. "What are the odds he would have been brought back to Asgard as a prisoner, after his false persona led an invasion here?"

Mimir frowned. "Let us be glad that did not happen."

Loki stirred, one hand reaching to probe gingerly at the spot where Tyr had struck him. His eyes opened, and he immediately focused on Tyr, his expression one of desperate hope.

"Father?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aesir wrap up their business on Midgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience while I struggled to figure out how to proceed with this story. I'm beginning to "come up for air" from my Loki obsession, and so it's been more of a challenge to find inspiration. Still, I hadn't meant for this story to go over a month without an update. So again, thank you.

"Hello, Loki," said Tyr.

"You're really here," Loki breathed, as tears sprang to his eyes. He sat up with a wince, one hand still touching his temple, then leaned forward until his head was resting on Tyr's shoulder. "You're really here."

How could Tyr possibly resist the urge to put his arms around Loki's shoulders? "I am. I'm here. And I have missed you, my son."

They sat like that in silence for about a minute, Tyr feeling the faint tremors from Loki's body, hopefully too minute for the humans to see. He was visibly exhausted; yet, though it pained him to do it, there was more that Tyr needed to ask of his son.

"Loki, I must assess an injury you have sustained. Can you tell me where we are?"

Wearily, Loki lifted his head and glanced around him. He paused when he spotted the humans and Mimir, but did not seem to recognize them. "The architecture is unfamiliar," he said. "And there are humans present. I can only assume we are on Midgard… though I know not why _you_ would be here with me."

"Then there are still gaps in your memory," said Tyr gently. "I was afraid there might be."

"There are," said Loki, "but I have recovered enough of them that I can at least tell you why."

"Mimir had a theory that you had compartmentalized your memories in order to protect your mind from the Chitauri's torture."

Loki shuddered, and nodded. "He was correct." He looked up at the older man, standing next to the cart laden with boxes of food. "I presume you are he?"

Mimir nodded and sat on the padded bench at the rear of the cell. "I am. I take it you do not remember me, quite yet."

"No, I am afraid not."

"Never mind. While it is important that you recover your memories, I believe I know how it may be done, now; and in any case, it is more important to me that you restore your strength, for the time being." He gestured at the boxes, and Tyr heard Loki's stomach growl.

"I dare not eat too much," said Loki. "It… has been some time since I last had sustenance."

"I look forward to punishing those who have mistreated you so," said Tyr.

With the general's help, he got to his feet and shuffled over to the food cart. The humans had provided a pleasing variety, more than Tyr had expected given that Loki was still technically a prisoner on their vessel. There were steamed vegetables of some kind in one box, meat between bread in another; most of the dishes were hot, but one or two were clearly meant to be served cold. The bottom of the cart held several bottles filled with water; Tyr reached for one of those first, while Loki nibbled carefully at the food.

One of the humans spoke up, from outside the cell. "While you eat," he began, "is there anything you can tell us about the Chitauri? We were led to believe that they would be likely to come here, after you opened a portal for them."

"I have no intention of opening their portal, now that I am more myself," said Loki. "And before that, while I could not bring myself to defy them entirely, my intent was to prepare ahead of time, and turn the invasion into a trap."

"How were you going to do that?" asked the other human.

Loki considered. "The easiest way, my 'Plan A' if you will, has been to sabotage the device so that it may open only enough to allow one of their larger vessels through at a time, then have Midgard's combined might waiting for them once they came through. I believe your people refer to this as a 'kill pocket', do you not?"

"Yeah, and how do you know that?"

"I've read books on strategy and philosophy from many worlds, including this one."

"And where would you set this trap?" asked Agent Romanov.

Again, Loki paused to consider his words, chewing thoughtfully as his head tipped to one side. "I had doubted that humans, as isolated as you have been, would have any reason to take me at my word were I to attempt simply to warn you of an impending invasion. Therefore I judged it necessary to draw your attention to _me_ as a threat, and lead you to the trap yourselves. Assuming I managed to draw the attention of the right people," and here he gestured around him, indicating the vessel and the humans he was speaking to, "I would simply place the portal device somewhere that would be of significance to them, a place they would wish to defend and would be invested in personally."

"Invested in personally," said the shorter of the two men. His voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide. "Son of a bitch."

"Indeed. You must be Mr. Stark, correct?"

The other man did not answer, instead spinning on his heel and stalking out the door; the other man trailed behind him with a confused expression on his face.

Romanov stood from her chair and approached the glass wall of their cell. "Are you sure you were really mind-controlled by the Chitauri?" she asked.

Tyr scowled, but Loki spoke before he could even open his mouth. "I know that they tried," he said. He smirked, looking entirely too smug despite his obvious fatigue. "I also know that I did my best to counter them. While there are still gaps in my memory, from your reactions, I would guess that I was at least partially successful."

"It was suggested earlier by General Tyr that you let us capture you; that you're here because you want to be. Why would you want that?"

Loki shrugged. "I should think that would be obvious to one of your intellect," he replied. "I needed either to come here to plant more clues to draw you in, or else perhaps to make myself appear to be a greater threat, so that you would _pay attention_ to those clues and follow them where I wished you to go."

"And where is that?"

"I believe the two men who just left have figured it out, finally. According to your friend, Agent Barton, Stark has the ability to travel quite rapidly back to his tower and determine the truth of my words."

"And what will happen to Barton now?" she asked, gaze hardening.

"I can no longer feel the scepter's influence," said Loki. He glanced aside at Tyr, and Tyr indicated Mimir.

"I have shielded it," said the older seidmadr.

"Then Barton and the others should recover themselves shortly, if they have not already done so."

Romanov nodded, one finger touching her ear. "Did you get all that?" she asked. Ah. A communication link, similar to what Tyr used on the training grounds. She paused, no doubt listening to whatever was being said on the other end, then smiled. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Indeed. And please convey to your colleagues my thanks, for yours."

Romanov suddenly looked a great deal less smug than she had a moment ago.

* * *

 

From there, everything seemed to go much more smoothly, Loki's final clue having been exactly what the humans needed to thwart the invasion entirely. The man named Stark left Fury's ship and returned with a partially constructed machine that would have been used to open a portal in the manner Loki had described. With the scepter shielded, the humans whose will Loki had originally subverted were already freed, and according to an overheard conversation between Fury and Maria Hill, they had already begun to return to Fury's command, or else to disappear, having originally been recruited by one of Loki's "lieutenants". Certainly none of them wanted to operate the machine anymore, with the exception of a man named Selvig, who, it turned out, had studied the Tesseract for far too long without proper safeguards in place.

Selvig was found alongside the machine at the tower Loki had described, a location that would have allowed the portal to open above the city and the Chitauri to attack by air. According to the man named Stark, he had still been frantically trying to complete the machine's construction and to install the Tesseract, completely unshielded. He had been talking to it, and according to Stark, had appeared to be listening to it as if in conversation with it. At Mimir's suggestion, Selvig was placed in a healing chamber, where he was quickly surrounded by both guards and physicians, and ranted about the truths "she" had shown him until he fell into a drugged stupor. Tyr had winced, observing his behavior via one of Fury's many monitors.

Beside him, Mimir shook his head. "There is little we can do for him," said the seidmadr, "save to remove the Tesseract from this world. Perhaps the All-Father would permit us to send a mind healer to him, but it is unlikely that he will allow it after we have already violated the treaty just to come here ourselves."

"And I suppose humans aren't allowed to come to your world?"

"Again, unlikely." Mimir tucked his hands into his sleeves apologetically. "I will attempt to persuade the All-Father, and once Loki has been healed, I am sure he will do the same."

"I shall," said Loki. He sat at the conference table between Tyr and Thor, holding himself with dignity, yet still looking to Tyr's eyes as though he were ready to collapse at any moment. "There are others I might persuade to come to Midgard, whose skills are even more renowned than Asgard's, but that would be dependent not only upon the All-Father's will, but that of the inter-realm council as well."

"Not sure the world is ready to see anyone who _you_ recommend," said Fury. He was much calmer, now that he was no longer facing an imminent threat to his people, but still decidedly displeased to have Loki out of his cell. Thor and Tyr sat on either side of Loki, both in support and as a clear statement to Fury that there would be consequences should he attempt to recapture the second prince.

"And as Midgard remains a sovereign entity, that decision is up to your people as well," replied Loki smoothly. "However, should you decide you do wish to have aid for Doctor Selvig, you need only contact us and I will do what I can to see that it is sent."

"And you're actually letting us keep the portal machine," pressed Stark. "We get to reverse-engineer this baby and figure out how to make portals to space?"

"Your people already possess most of the technology," said Loki, "and all of the pieces of theory. You simply had not yet put them together, although from the look of things at the facility where you studied the Tesseract, you were very close to a breakthrough even before I came. However, I fear that you will be disappointed when you do get the machine to work. Its reach is too long for what you would likely prefer it to do; it will not create portals to move items or people from place to place here on your planet." He smiled sardonically. "I am sure your SHIELD would prefer to have the ability to enact instantaneous invasions of other human factions, but that will not be possible. And the coordinates currently programmed into the machine lead to Chitauri space, well away from any civilized realms." His smile softened into something a bit more genuine. "Be careful, as you have not been before now."

"Right, safeguards, got it," said Stark, "but still. You're actually letting us keep the thing? You're taking the scepter and the glowy cube, both."

Fury glared at the other human as if warning him against the reminder, but Tyr only shrugged. "Precisely. We are taking the objects that are of immediate danger to you and to us all, and leaving you the object which you crafted yourselves. Whether or not you are wise enough to use it safely, or use it at all, is entirely up to you. The All-Father may not like it, but even he will agree that this is fair compensation for our coming to your world, and for the trouble that we brought with us."

"Only one of you brought trouble," muttered Fury, narrowing his eye at Loki. The admission was the closest thing to an expression of goodwill that Tyr had heard him utter.

"And I have mitigated it to the best of my ability," said Loki. "Come. Are we not finished here?"

Fury sighed, the most unguarded gesture Tyr had yet seen from him. He still did not look happy, but, "Yeah, I believe we are," was all he said.

* * *

 

They had brought their flying ship down onto the surface of the ocean as a precaution against further attack, so that the humans could come and see the Bifrost operate up close, and so that they could say their farewells in a properly diplomatic fashion. The rune inscribed on their deck was surrounded by dozens of men and women, some with weapons, but others carrying instruments of various sizes and shapes. "Recoding equipment," one of them called it. "Your bridge technology is pretty amazing, and we're going to study the hell out of it while we still can."

Tyr wasn't sure what sort of useful information they could possibly get from studying the Bifrost's side effects, but he supposed they were welcome to try. He chose not to remark upon it, instead nodding to the man and to Agent Romanov. She stood beside a warrior that he had not seen before, one who looked worn and weary, and glared at Loki with hatred in his eyes.

Ah. One of the men whose will had been suborned. Tyr could understand the sentiment.

"Farewell," he said, "and thank you again for your aid in these matters." He stepped forward and took his place beside Loki. The two of them, plus Mimir with the shielded scepter and Thor carrying the Tesseract, moved to the center of the Bifrost rune. "Would you do the honors?" he asked Thor.

The elder prince clasped Loki's shoulder briefly, then tipped his head to the sky. "Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!"

Within seconds, the thunder rolled, the beam of light bore down through the sky, and they were lifted away from that world and back to Asgard.

* * *

 

In the observatory, Loki sagged and nearly collapsed, but for Tyr and Thor both moving to hold him up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm fine."

"You are nothing of the kind, brother," said Thor. He looked pained, right after he said it; earlier, on Fury's vessel, he had had to reintroduce himself to Loki, who claimed not to remember him. Tyr suspected that Loki had locked memories away of all his loved ones, perhaps in order to protect them from being targeted by the Chitauri.

"I am merely tired," insisted Loki, but allowed himself to be manhandled toward the entrance, where Tyr hoped to see a skiff waiting to bear them to Vingólf.

"Welcome home, my prince," said Heimdall as they staggered past. "General: congratulations on the success of your endeavor."

"Thank you, Gatekeeper."

"The All-Father will wish to speak to you tomorrow, after you have had time to refresh yourself from your journey. He wishes to see Loki as well, as soon as the younger prince is recovered from his ordeal."

"That may be some time," said Mimir. "I will work with the prince to restore his memories, but he must also rest and be healed from the physical injuries he has sustained."

"I shall be certain to inform the All-Father," said Heimdall.

Loki looked about him in weary bemusement as they approached the skiff. "Asgard," he said.

"Do you remember it?" asked Thor.

"I think so, and yet I do not," he said. "I feel no particular connection to this place, even though I recognize many of the landmarks."

Thor looked ready to weep, yet he clasped the side of Loki's neck in gentle affection. "I trust that you will remember soon."

"We shall see." He glanced to Tyr, as if for reassurance. "I remember Father, and I am glad not to have lost him. But the process I used to protect my mind will not be swiftly undone. The more I remember—the more of 'me' has been restored—the more difficult it will be to integrate the next layer of memories. There will be… I will be likely to recall the exact traumas I suffered at the hands of the Chitauri. I remember them now, of course, but they do not _affect_ me as I am sure they will."

"We will be beside you as you walk the path back toward who you once were," Thor assured him.

Loki nodded, but it was not until Tyr put his arm across his son's shoulders that the other man seemed to relax. "Thank you," he said; he shut his eyes and leaned against Tyr's side for the rest of the journey home.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki recovers, and is reunited with Sigyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to you all for following this fic and this series. It has been a rewarding journey, but tiring, so for now I am hanging up my pen (so to speak) and giving myself a bit of a rest from this series and this fandom. I will still post updates to _Skýli_ as the inspiration strikes, but my plans to continue this series will likely not see fruition. I had originally wanted to write an alternate Thor where Loki was crowned king, and possibly an alternate TDW where the Chitauri returned, and possibly combine those two concepts into one story, but... the thing is, novels are exhausting to write. Rewarding! But tiring, especially when your inspiration begins to dry up a bit. The words are harder to find and everything is just slower to put together.
> 
> So, I will be marking _Odin's Son, Tyr's Son_ complete, and here is the final chapter to the longest continuous story (from _Grievance_ to now) that I have ever written. I hope you enjoy it.

Loki slept for three days, waking only to eat or relieve himself, in chambers he claimed only barely to recognize. After, Tyr watched with an aching heart as his son wandered his own study, picking things up and setting them down again with an expression of frustrated curiosity on his face, but little more.

"I look forward to regaining my memories of this place," he said finally. "I wish I could remember now."

"I wish you could, too," said Tyr.

"If it's any consolation, I at least find this place to be… interesting, even if it does not yet feel like home to me."

"It is your home, Loki, and has been for many centuries. Many of these objects are mementos you have brought here from your travels."

"I see." Loki frowned, and turned away, studying the various objects on their shelves.

"Do you know what you will need to do in order to restore your memories?" Tyr asked.

"I do," he replied, and sounded just a little more animated, a little less remote. "But it will take time. Integrating the memories… well, you saw how I responded with yours and Mimir's."

"You passed out," said Tyr with a frown.

Loki shook his head. "Not quite. It's more of a trance state, where the thoughts and portions of my seidr reintegrate themselves into the whole. But since I was so exhausted, it was harder to awaken from that state."

"I think I understand."

"The difficulty is that each of the portions must be opened by a specific person. And for obvious reasons, I myself am uncertain to whom each of the boxes is keyed."

Tyr reached out and gripped Loki's shoulder. "Then we will find out together; you will not be alone in your quest to recover yourself. You will have myself and Mimir, and Sigyn, and Thor, and everyone else whom you may have designated to protect a portion of your memories and magic."

Loki smiled, visibly relieved and grateful, then tipped his head to one side. "Who is Sigyn?"

Tyr took a deep breath, hiding the pang in his heart. She had wanted to stay in these chambers with Loki while he recovered, but the healers had insisted on sending her away. She would be heartbroken to hear that she was among the people whom Loki no longer remembered. "You will find out."

* * *

 

A few days later, Tyr summoned as many of Loki's close friends and family to Vingólf as could come. They all met in Loki's chambers, where Loki sat with three delicate looking, glowing green vessels that he had pulled from his dimensional pocket, and waited to begin.

Thor was there, and Fandral and Sif, and even Olief and Astrid, and Geirny the Thief. In addition, at long last, was Sigyn, who looked at Loki with her heart laid bare and tears in her eyes. The general had warned her ahead of time, but it still hurt to see that Loki had no recollection of who she was or what they had been together. He had greeted her pleasantly enough, but she couldn't have helped but to expect more. They had been lovers for centuries. Frigga had declared them married, after Odin had declared Loki dead. Sigyn herself had quested for a year to find him, and had succeeded—had poured her own seidr into him to protect him from Chitauri torture—and now she was to accept that this was the result? A Loki who barely remembered everyone he'd ever cared about, who looked about his own chambers with no more than polite interest, who did not smile and laugh and plan pranks and make love to her as he once had?

No.

Sigyn would fight to regain her love, with every means at her disposal.

Finally Frigga swept into the room, with Mimir a pace behind her, and they both took their seats in Loki's public room.

"Thank you for coming," said Tyr, rising from his seat. "You all know why we are assembled, so I will be brief. Each of the boxes you see here is keyed to an individual, and contains a portion of Loki's memories and seidr. Loki himself no longer knows to whom they may belong, so it falls to us to decipher their riddles and open them, to help restore Loki."

Sigyn frowned. "May I see them?" she asked.

"Of course. We all will take turns examining them. They seem to respond simply to being touched by the right person."

"Yes, but it may not be that difficult," said Sigyn. "I can read runes, after all."

Loki clasped his hands in front of him. "I purposefully encoded the runes, it would seem," he said. "Being able to read the runes is not sufficient, my lady, or Mimir would have been able to distribute them all himself."

"Yes, but I have known you even longer than Seidmadr Mimir has, and while you may not remember me now…" She took a breath to calm the tremble in her voice. "…I may understand the riddles well enough to save us all some time."

Loki studied her face for a long moment, and Sigyn found herself holding her breath, praying for a memory to surface in the mind of her beloved. There was at least a stirring of interest behind his eyes, and Sigyn fought to keep her hopes under control as she waited.

"I see," he said thoughtfully, and she exhaled. "Very well. You may be the first to look at them, if you wish."

"I do." She stood, then frowned in confusion as Loki did the same before arranging himself on the floor in a meditative pose. "What are you doing?"

"As each vessel is opened, and the seidr returns to him, Loki falls into a trance state," explained Mimir. "He is preparing to receive whatever we might be able to provide him."

Sigyn forced herself to turn her back on her love and step to the table where the three vessels waited. They were all geometric solids of varying degrees of complexity, and Sigyn wondered if the shapes had any significance of their own. She called upon her own seidr and let her hands drift across them until she found one that seemed more interesting than the rest. It was lighter than she expected it to be when she picked it up, and she turned it in her hands, studying the faint marks inscribed into the sides.

On a whim, she pushed her own seidr into it, and gasped when the container briefly flashed gold before fading to its usual green. "Oh."

"What is it?" asked Mimir.

Sigyn turned so that he could see her hands. "Look," she said, and did it again. Hidden markings flashed on each face of the container, clearly visible for a second or two before fading again. "This one is meant for you, my queen. Here, you can see the official sigil of the All-Mother."

"Thank you, daughter," said Frigga, taking the vessel carefully in both hands. She turned it over once, twice, then said, "Ah," and lifted one of the faces away as if it were a lid. The entire container dissolved, and they watched as green seidr flowed into Loki, where he sat on the floor.

"Well done," said Tyr quietly. "Try the others."

"Of course."

* * *

 

With Sigyn's help, all three vessels quickly found their way to the right people. One was for Odin himself, which Tyr had not expected; he and Loki brought it to the palace, and then Tyr listened as his son related the memories which had been restored to him: troop strength, the different types of fighters the Chitauri had in their army, and his best guess at a timetable for the Chitauri to attack.

"Without the Tesseract and without me to study and walk the paths between the worlds for them, I would say it is likely that they will take advantage of the Convergence, coming in only a few more years, as the svartalfar did before them. Only this time, the Mad Titan himself will be the driving force behind the invasion."

"This is grave news indeed, if we are unable to find and stop these Chitauri in time," said Odin. "Loki. You have done well. There will be a feast to celebrate your return to Asgard, once your recovery is complete."

"Thank you, All-Father," said Loki, bowing respectfully.

"And Loki… I am grateful that you have survived your ordeal."

Loki blinked once or twice, but Tyr recognized the moment when he slipped into his "court face" to hide his emotion. "Thank you, All-Father."

* * *

 

Finally, all the seidr-crafted containers holding Loki's memories were distributed and opened. Loki's magic was stronger than ever, and Lady Eir, Mimir, and Miiran of Cor Caan all pronounced him almost entirely recovered from what the Chitauri had done, and what he had done to himself.

The process took several weeks, and some of the containers turned out to be keyed to friends of Loki's on other realms. No one could quite decipher the system that Loki had used to compartmentalize his memories, but given how dangerous the procedure had been in the first place, no one was especially anxious to replicate it, either. Sigyn's magic turned out to be invaluable in deciphering some of the more obscure riddles.

Sigyn was disappointed to discover that none of the seidr vessels had been keyed to her specifically. Loki did not remember her, but he seemed interested in getting to know her all over again; Sigyn resolved to be patient with him as he began a tentative friendship with her, followed by courtship.

A year went by, and they grew ever closer; he took her to Alfheim to meet Miiran and his friends there, and she made time to speak with the shaman privately.

"I know I shouldn't begrudge him, but there is a part of me that only wishes for my old Loki to return to me," she said. "I miss him. I quested to rescue him, and I feel as though he never returned to me." She looked down at her hands. "I suppose that is very selfish and childish of me."

"It may be," said Miiran, "but it is perfectly natural that you should feel that way. Besides," she added with a smile, "I think you will find that your Loki is closer to you than you may think."

* * *

 

Not long after that, she and Loki made love for the first time since his return. He was tender with her, tentative as he always had been since beginning his courtship anew, and she decided to show him a little trick they had discovered together, decades ago.

"Bring up your seidr," she said to him, between kisses. "And mingle it with mine, like this." With a caress, she pushed her seidr into him, under his skin, and grinned as he gasped and arched into her touch.

"Sigyn!" His eyes flew open, and she was stunned to see them glowing the same gold as her magic. "Sigyn, you—" He twitched the sheets back from their bodies, and she could see his skin glowing too, the runes she had once etched into his flesh lit up like a glimmer of stars.

"Oh," she gasped, and he pounced, and kissed the breath out of her.

"You," he was saying. "It was you. You saved me. You _saved_ me."

"Loki?"

"I remember," he said. "Not all of it, but… but I remember _that_ , oh, Sigyn, my beautiful, my love…"

Afterward they lay tangled together, Sigyn trailing her fingertips lazily across his chest as he caught his breath, and as the sweat cooled on their bodies. Finally he sat up, pulling her with him to rest her head on his shoulder. With a gesture, he brought forth another glowing green vessel, smaller than all the rest that she had seen.

"I buried this one the deepest," he said, "to protect you above all others."

Sigyn could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and smiled through the blur. "It is a treasure," she said, "to be treasured so."

"As you have treasured me."

"How could I not?" She did not take the vessel from his hand, merely covered it with her own. It was so tiny and delicate looking, just as the others had been. With a small burst of her seidr, the box glowed gold and fell open beneath her palm, and Sigyn ran her fingers through Loki's hair as he fell into the trance state she had witnessed so many times before. There had been well over a dozen compartments into which he had separated his seidr and memories, and Sigyn had been by his side to watch over him as they reintegrated, for every container except the ones opened on Midgard and in Odin's presence.

Her love took a deep breath, and slowly, his eyes opened. His gaze was the sharpest she'd ever seen it as he scrutinized her. Miiran had been right; her love had been closer than she'd realized, all along.

"What happened to your hair?"

Sigyn laughed. "Do you remember me, then?"

"At long last, yes," he said, drawing his fingers through the strands. They were colorless still, ever since her bargain with Nidhogg, and translucent where they trailed over his hand. "I've missed you so."

"Well, at least you were still drawn to me even when you could not remember," she teased, and he smiled in return.

"How could I not be?" he countered. Loki leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose, and she giggled as though they were adolescents again, still sneaking moments together away from their parents. "But come," he said. "Tell me. This is not the fashion among Asgard's women, or even on Alfheim, and you were never one to embrace silly fashion trends anyway."

"You know that Odin declared you dead," she said solemnly. "I think Queen Frigga told you?"

"Yes, I remember. And I know that you defied them and decided to look for me anyway."

Sigyn nodded. "You will not believe the adventure I had, searching for you."

"This happened on your journey?" Loki glanced up at her in concern.

"Just so," she said.

"You told me you had gone to Dvergarheim and Muspelheim."

"I did," said Sigyn. "But there were a few details I left out."

"I look forward to hearing them."

Sigyn leaned up, and gave him a lingering kiss. "Listen, then, my love, and I will tell you everything."

* * *

 

Loki's reaction was everything Sigyn could have hoped for, and then some.

"You are a legend among women," he said to her much later, kissing her again on her cheek, her lips, her throat. "You are a queen. A princess. I should make you _my_ princess." He stopped, and looked into her eyes. "If you will have me."

"Are you proposing marriage to me?" Sigyn asked, delighted.

"I am."

"Did you not hear that as well?" She could not contain the impish little grin curling the corners of her mouth. "Frigga declared us already wed, at your memorial feast."

Loki blinked. "At my… she declared you my wife?"

"Your widow," Sigyn agreed, a bit less impish now. "I think she wanted to prevent any untoward advances, and give me time to grieve you in my own way, and keep my parents from searching for anyone else for me."

"Why did you not tell me this before, when I was courting you?"

"Because I did not wish to pressure you with my own memories that you did not have."

Loki nodded, understanding her as he always seemed to. "But Mother has not rescinded that, now that I have returned? We are still wed?"

"We are husband and wife, though I would not say _wed,_ since we never had the pleasure of a wedding," Sigyn sniffed primly, and Loki laughed.

"You are a wonder," he said.

"I did nothing."

"You searched for me," he pointed out. "And you found me."

"Yes, but I had nothing to do with Queen Frigga declaring us husband and wife. That was entirely her doing."

"Still."

Sigyn dimpled, and felt herself blush. "Still."

* * *

 

Their proper wedding, despite Loki being a prince, managed to be a small, intimate affair, held at Vingólf rather than the royal palace, with their closest friends attending. Sigyn's father and General Tyr got along well, despite her father initially seeming intimidated by the high status of most of those in attendance. Sigyn's mother was almost overbearing, which Sigyn was informed was entirely traditional for weddings, before Frigga arrived and took her aside for a kindly conversation.

Even Odin attended, and Miiran of Cor Caan, the dwarf völva Rannveig of Dvergarheim, Mimir, and other distinguished people whom Loki or Sigyn had managed to befriend over the centuries. Frigga herself officiated, and everyone agreed that the bride was radiant.

Loki, in her opinion, was no less so.

* * *

 

"Ordinarily I would have had to wait until Thor were married before I would be allowed to," he said later, "but my supposed death allowed for an exception to be made."

"How did Thor take the news?" Sigyn asked; she was standing with her back to Loki while he pulled pins from her hair, one by one.

"He was thrilled," said Loki. "He did play at being perhaps a little petulant, because I was 'winning something' first and he wasn't, for a change. But we both know better. He was truly happy for me, I think. Besides, it isn't as if he's shown any sign of settling down."

"Do you think that might change?" she asked.

She felt rather than saw Loki's shrug. "I don't know. I've heard he goes often to Heimdall and asks after Midgard, of all places, but as far as I had heard he had never taken an interest in the people there before. Perhaps he is curious over a culture he had believed to be primitive."

"Mm." Sigyn closed her eyes and put it out of her mind. "I hadn't thought such a short ceremony could be so exhausting," she said.

"It is because it is a performance for us before an audience, as much as it is a recognition of what we are to one another."

"I am not much of a performer," said Sigyn ruefully. "I'm surprised you were not entirely in your element."

"Oh, I could have been," he said. "But you weren't, and this was real and not a trick or a plan to carry off, so I could not entirely enjoy it. I fear I am as exhausted as you seem."

"I am sorry. I am told that the wedding night is supposed to involve rather a lot of consummation, but all I want to accomplish is a good night of sleep!"

Loki laughed. "A worthy goal," he said. "And one I think you have earned."

She turned in his arms and looked up to see him smiling down at her. "Are you sure?"

"We have had decades together, my darling; centuries, and we will have millennia more now that we are wed. And you are my wife, not a performer, as you have said. There should be no pressure to play at bed sport between us." Loki leaned down and nuzzled at her cheek. "Besides, I want you well rested when I take you to see the surprise I have planned for you."

"A surprise?" Sigyn raised her eyebrow. "Have we not had enough of surprises in the past year, my husband?"

"I think you will like this one," he said. "It is only that I have built a little bower on Vanaheim, and another on Alfheim. They are sanctuaries I wished to share with you, whenever either of us needed time away or wished to be left alone for a while."

"They sound lovely already," she said. "And I can't wait to see them… after I have slept."

Loki only smiled and pulled her into his arms. "Indeed, my love. After."

* * *

 

And the next morning, when both were rested and refreshed, they departed Asgard and began the remainder of their lives together in peace and contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, for being a part of this journey alongside me and Loki. I am grateful to every single one of you.
> 
> If you want to leave extra kudos, you're welcome to stop by [my Tumblr blog](http://peaceheather.tumblr.com) and say hello.


End file.
